


When Blood Sings

by L_Greene



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternian societal tweaking, Bloody Violence, Multi, Reader Beware, all the pre- and post-Scratch trolls are here, both minor and major characters bite it, caste system, genderbent Kurloz, genderbent Meulin, lots of character deaths, no seriously there is a lot of blood and violence, not dead enough, there will be blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 102,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas is a mutant grub sent to Alternia for one purpose: to act as the Great Equalizer and destroy the blood caste system. Unfortunately, the caste system isn't the only thing to be destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. THE DOLOROSA I

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the first chapter of my pre-Hivebent fic. Before we begin, the characters are as follows:
> 
> Meenah Peixes: Her Imperious Condescension/The Condesce; Feferi Peixes: The Princess; Cronus Ampora: Orphaner Dualscar; Eridan Ampora: The Eleventh; Kurlas Makara (genderbent Kurloz): The Grand Highblood; Gamzee Makara: The Young Highblood (also known derogatorily as The Soporite); Equius Zahhak: E%ecutor Darkleer; Horuss Zahhak: The Engineer; Aranea Serket: Marquise Spinneret Mindfang; Vriska Serket: The Scorpion; Latula Pyrope: Judicate Redglare; Terezi Pyrope: Neophyte Redglare; Kanaya Maryam: The Dolorosa; Porrim Maryam: The Inspired; Meulon Leijon (genderbent Meulin): The Follower; Nepeta Leijon: The Disciple; Karkat Vantas: The Signless (later, The Sufferer); Kankri Vantas: The Singular; Mituna Captor: Redshine; Sollux Captor: Blueglow (the Captors are known collectively as The Ψiioniix and, later, The Helmsmen); Rufioh Nitram: The Summoner; Tavros Nitram: The Flighted; Aradia Megido: The Handmaid; Damara Megido: The Explorer; John Egbert: The Finalist; Rose Lalonde: The Grimseer; Dave Strider: The Musician; and Jade Harley: The Huntress.
> 
> Each chapter will follow a different character, and these titles (except for the Captors') are all first titles, or titles as they stand at the beginning of the fic.

_**The Dolorosa** _

The harsh Alternian sun beat down on Kanaya Maryam's skin, but far from fretting about the jade-green sweat beading up, she reveled in its warmth. Right now, the transport paths were deserted as trolls remained shut up in their hives—Kanaya was one of the few who could stand being in the sunlight. She walked along the path, glancing this way and that every so often, more out of habit than anything else, since the only other trolls she saw during the day were among the peasantry—and her own sister, of course. She usually took this daily constitutional with her sister Porrim, but today, her younger sister had been unusually tired. The Mother Grub was getting ready to hatch a new clutch of grubs, and considering the time of the sweep, it would only be a matter of weeks.

Kanaya was one of the more higher-ranking of the jade bloods who tended to the Mother Grub, so she was often spared the more menial tasks associated with the younger trolls. She didn't mind the work—it was what she'd been hatched for, after all—but the sweeps seemed to pass by faster and faster. Aging was not a heavy concern for her because she was still fairly young for her blood color (the lower castes would consider her old, and the fuchsia-blooded Empress and her sister would consider her to be barely older than a wiggler), but sometimes, she couldn't help but feel that she was destined for something greater than what she had here.

Which was why she went on her walks. She had hoped that happenstance would bring her upon some glorious purpose for her life that she couldn't realize otherwise, but after nearly three sweeps, she had seen little of import.

Today, though, she had a different goal. She had seen in the wee hours of the morning something that looked like a meteor impact. Kanaya hoped no one had gotten to the site first, but she wasn't unduly concerned—it had happened while everyone else was getting ready to shut themselves in for the day, so she could only imagine that they had all been far too busy.

Walking toward the site of the impact, a sense of excitement overtook her, so much so that she completely missed the white-gold flash behind one of the trees far to her right. As soon as she cleared the small hive cluster where she lived, she broke into a near run in her haste to make it to the site, her curiosity increasing by the minute.

She soon slowed as she realized how far off the crater was and how long she'd have to walk. She would have to conserve her energy. She could see the crater from here, but when it didn't grow as quickly as she expected it would, she felt a tinge of disappointment.

Finally, she swept the heaviest layer of her clothing—her cape—over her head and carried it over her shoulder. Her body temperature dropped soon enough and she could breathe a little easier now. The sweat on her skin cooled her further, and not for the first time, she was grateful that there were so few trolls who could stand the daylight. She liked night well enough, but the quiet of the day was something that could only be experienced—never described.

Kanaya drew level with the lip of the crater. She folded her cape neatly and set it on the ground before creeping to the edge and peering down, her heart rate beginning to pick up with excitement.

She didn't know what she expected—perhaps the beginning of a brutal alien swarm, the kind Her Imperious Condescension was always warning the Alternians about, reminding them of their need for an Imperial Fleet—but it certainly wasn't what she saw. She let out a squeak of horror, her heart in her throat, and scrambled over the lip of the crater to slide down the side as fast as she could.

There, in the middle, covered by soil and grass was, unmistakeably, a grub! Terror coursed through her, worry over the tiny little thing. There was no way it could have survived an impact like that, no possible way at all, but she still had to check on it. The mother instinct in her jade blood pushed her closer until she dropped to her knees and scooped up the little grub.

" _Ooop_." The tiny sound escaped the grub, and Kanaya nearly dropped it in surprise. It was _alive_? How was that possible?

It opened its eyes and looked around before its gaze settled on her. She felt her heart move with pity over the little thing—this was more than just a regular grub. Based on its eye and carapace color, it had some strange mutation—bright, candy-red blood that was never seen in common society. This would never do. If The Condesce's drones found this one, they would cull it immediately.

"Where did you come from?" Kanaya asked softly, as if the little wiggler could answer, and she looked up, searching the sky for a response and finding none. She looked back down at it—she couldn't be sure while the grub was so young, but she thought it was male—and wondered what she should do. In her heart of hearts, she believed that culling the defenseless was wrong, which was where she differed from troll society. Most Alternians believed that culling the weak was good, it enhanced the strength of the race, it created the fiercest fighters in the galaxy, but she could never convince herself that a society who ignored those most in need, who divided its citizens based on blood color, would survive for long.

She knew what she had to do.

She looked around the edge of the crater, trying to find the easiest slope to climb one-handed. It certainly wasn't back where she'd come from—no, she'd have to go around to a different side. Even then, the going was very slow, and it took her nearly ten minutes to scale the wall and ease the little grub as gently as she could onto the grass before dragging herself over the side and flopping back on the ground for a few moments to catch her breath.

When she looked at him, he was looking back at her, a tiny, bubbly smile on his face. She sat up and picked him up again, cradling him close to her chest. She had to raise this wiggler, she knew—but what would Porrim say? It was crucial that she had her sister's help. If Porrim breathed a word of this to the wrong troll, both Kanaya and the grub would be culled. It was dangerous, but she had to help him.

She located her folded-up cape in the grass, shook it out, and swaddled the little grub in it as snugly as she dared. She didn't want to cover his face, but she realized the importance of it. If anyone saw, it would be over.

Before she made the final tuck, though, she looked down at him and gave him a small kiss on his cartilaginous nub. "It's okay, little one. Shoosh, don't fret. I'll be your lusus. Porrim and I both will be your lusii. You'll be just fine, my darling."

He whimpered but didn't struggle as she pulled the fabric of her cape over his face. "I've got you," she whispered.

Reassuring herself that everything would be fine, she started back toward her and Porrim's hive.

* * *

Kanaya heard her sister's sigh from the entertainment block as soon as the entrance portal opened. "I'm delighted that you've returned, sister," Porrim called. "My head has been paining me terribly. I need—what the almighty fuck is _that_?" she asked as she caught sight of the bundle in Kanaya's arms. Her air of dignity dropped at a moment's notice.

"Shoosh, please," Kanaya pleaded, glancing back at the portal as if expecting drones to burst through any second. "You'll wake him."

"Wake... who?"

She hurried to Porrim, who stood up, and Kanaya pulled back the cape from the grub's face. Her sister gasped and covered her mouth.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

"The crater—remember that explosion we saw earlier this morning?"

Porrim nodded, her eyes never leaving the grub in Kanaya's arms.

"I think he was what landed. He's alive, though. And I don't know why, but I think... he's special."

Porrim nodded again, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "So what will we do?"

Kanaya was relieved. Now that her sister had calmed down slightly, she seemed to be on her side. The grub, meanwhile, had fallen asleep on the walk back, and remained asleep now, but Kanaya didn't know for how long. The poor thing would be hungry very soon. "We raise him, be his lusii. We cannot tell anyone, though. The drones will cull us and him. So... will you help me?"

Porrim nodded immediately. "Of course." She gingerly reached out and ran her fingers over the grub's head. Her gaze softened to something akin to tenderness while she looked at him. "Can I... hold him?"

Kanaya handed off the grub to her sister. Her arms had been getting tired—it wasn't that the grub was particularly heavy, but she was used to carrying hatchlings, and he seemed to be a little older than that, maybe a quarter of a sweep old, if that.

The motion jostled the grub and he squirmed, opening his eyes. Porrim gasped again, and then pulled back the rest of the cape to get a good look at his carapace. "Kanaya. He's a mutant!"

"I know," Kanaya said. "But he'll be culled all the same. Look at him—he's clearly no longer a hatchling anymore, and even if he were, the Mother Grub hasn't laid any eggs yet. They'll know he's a freak just by looking at him. I don't know where he came from or how he got here, but, Porrim, he's special. We must care for him."

"He won't have trials."

"The drones would cull him, and he'll be too old by the time this clutch enters their trials. Having this bright-red blood... don't you think that's trial enough? It's a trial he'll have to live with every day for all his sweeps."

"I've never seen anyone with his blood color have a sign," Porrim pointed out, referring to the identical symbol both she and Kanaya wore, denoting their jade-green blood and their status in Alternian society.

"Signless, I know. Porrim, please, you said you would help."

"That was before I knew he was a mutant!"

As if on cue, the grub hiccuped and began to cry. Kanaya snatched him out of Porrim's arms and cradled him close. "Please, get some of the milk from the thermal hull—I think he's hungry."

"You mean the fridge?" Porrim grumbled, heading to the sustenance block all the same.

Porrim was always trying to get Kanaya to call things by their "proper," high-blooded names, but Kanaya could never remember the terms. The low-blooded terms were just fine for her.

Porrim returned from the sustenance block with a feeding cylinder from one of the previous sweep's hatchings filled with milk. She handed the feeding cylinder to Kanaya, who adjusted the wiggler until he could eat comfortably. Almost immediately, he stopped crying.

Porrim sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't know, sister. I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

"I understand your concern, sister, but I couldn't just leave him out there for the drones to cull him. This isn't like a typical culling during the trials. He was out there in the nature assemblage, in the middle of a crater. I don't know why, but he was meant for something great, and we have to care for him."

"He's a mutant."

"What if only a mutant can do what he is intended to do?"

Porrim sighed, and Kanaya knew she'd finally persuaded her. "What will we call him?"

Kanaya looked down at the wiggler, who was close to halfway finished with the feeding cylinder and slowing fast. He looked like he was ready to nod off. "Karkat. His name will be Karkat Vantas."


	2. THE PRINCESS

_**The Princess** _

Feferi Peixes had been found by the Imperial Lusus when her sister, Her Imperious Condescension, was nearing her thirty-sixth wriggling day. The Condesce, as Feferi's sister was known, hadn't been ruler of Alternia long—just about twenty-two sweeps—but she already had the entire planet easily under her control. Feferi didn't remember much of her first sweep or two since she was still reeling from the trials and didn't say anything until she was nearly three, but by the time she realized who her sister ("I'm Meenah, girl, you don't call me 'The Condesce,' you ma' sista', got it?") was, she wished she was back facing her trials.

Meenah started teaching Feferi from an early age how to handle ruling an entire people. It wasn't easy, she said, but due to their fuchsia blood, they were the only ones capable of it. All other blood colors in the hemospectrum were below them—it was their _duty_ to rule. To rule properly, she added, Feferi would have to understand the Alternian past, and Meenah brought in scores of blue-blooded tutors to teach her everything she would need to know.

Feferi learned early on that, hundreds of sweeps ago, the terms for siblings hadn't even been thought of. Once, lusii raised one grub at a time because more grubs were being culled in the trials and there were almost too many lusii compared to trolls, but gradually, a shift happened. The troll race strengthened and more grubs survived the trials and crawled out of the cave of the Mother Grub, while lusii began diminishing in number.

The first known case of troll siblings happened around a hundred sweeps before. Appropriately, it was a set of royal-blooded siblings (not fuchsia-bloods, but almost as high on the hemospectrum). Mediri Ofelso had been about seven sweeps old when, while walking with her lusus, they discovered a wiggler with the same body color as Mediri's blood, and at first, she thought it was some mistake.

But it wasn't, and the grub grew up to be Sorana Ofelso, a great adviser to the empress before Meenah. Mediri helped her lusus raise Sorana since she was essentially grown herself, less than a sweep away from being a full adult, but in many ways, they were still sisters.

Soon, more and more instances of troll siblings came about, grubs being raised in twos or even threes by their lusus, and they were mostly either all brothers or all sisters, but sometimes, mixed-gender siblings cropped up. Sometimes troll siblings would fight and there were one or two stories of siblings attempting to cull one another, but for the most part, it was a peaceful transition, especially for the lower-blooded trolls whose siblings were hatched within a sweep or two of them. It was also much easier for two trolls to handle one lusus together.

In fact, now the standard was for sibling trolls, and those few who were left without siblings were discovered to live for fewer sweeps than trolls who had a brother or sister. One hypothesis to explain this phenomenon was that trolls left alone didn't learn as early on how to interact with others and ended up getting culled, although there was nothing to prove it.

Another shift in regards to the concept of troll siblings came in the form of romantic quadrants—or, rather, a non-shift, because troll siblings had also become known to form relationships in all four quadrants with their sibling, although moirallegiance and auspiticism was far more common than matespritship and kismesissitude. Concupiscent relationships weren't uncommon, though.

Still, the more Feferi learned about the brutal history of Alternia, the more sure she became that she had to do something to change it. She couldn't do anything about it now since she was still The Princess and her sister was The Condesce (and unless her sister died early, Feferi wouldn't rule for very long before she, too, died), but she knew she had to do something.

But for now, at nine sweeps old, all she could do was smile and nod and learn her lessons and pretend for Meenah's sake that she was being a good little heiress because while Feferi found the blood caste system to be tiresome and ridiculous, Meenah put all her stock in it and believed eventually that the lower blood colors on the hemospectrum would die out, no matter what kind of crazy abilities developed in the lower strata. But Feferi wanted to learn about all her subjects, not just the high-bloods, so she'd proposed an idea to her sister.

When she originally approached Meenah with her suggestion, she'd expected resistance from The Condesce, but nothing quite like what she received.

"Sister," she said, crouching down next to Meenah's throne. "I _min-now_ you've been preparing me to rule one day, so I thought it would be a _reel_ ly good _op-perch-tuna-ty_ if I were to travel around and _sea_ the other trolls in and world and get to _glub_ with them. I be _reef_ it would help me con _net_ with them," she said as quickly and respectfully as possible. She sat back and waited as her sister appeared to think over her proposal, lightly tapping the bottom of her 2x3dent on the floor.

Finally, she turned her head in Feferi's direction, sending waves through her hair and the clinking of all her jewelry—necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets—through the nearly-empty Throne Room. A few blue-blooded Defenders paced the perimeter but otherwise paid no attention to the Peixeses' conversation.

"Uh-uh, girl," Meenah said quietly, and that alone was enough to make Feferi want to run—The Condesce only dropped her voice like that when she was really angry. "You ain't goin' any _wharf_ , trust me. You still gotta lot to learn before you go _swimmin_ ' around an' mixin' with the low-bloods, so..." She got to her feet and Feferi immediately stood up, feeling her collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system begin to work overtime. Meenah was still a head taller than her and had thirty-six sweeps and far more combat experience than her, and Feferi suddenly remembered this all at once and wished she hadn't said anything. Her first instinct was to back away slowly, but that would probably only infuriate The Condesce further, and when Meenah turned toward her, she found that she was rooted to the spot anyway. "Why don't you go _splash_ off before I _make_ you _splash_ off?"

Feferi nodded quickly and absconded from the Throne Room as quickly as possible, ashamed of herself for the fear she felt. Her sister had engaged the previous Alternian empress in combat and wrested the crown away from her, an old custom, but Feferi knew she couldn't win against her sister, and Meenah knew it, too, which was why she kept her close. Feferi wouldn't be able to take down Meenah—she would only inherit the throne after Meenah died, whether by natural causes or someone else's hand.

She didn't stop running until she arrived in front of her blocks. She pushed open the entrance portal, shoved it closed behind her, and sank to a limp pile on the floor. Still trembling from terror, she drew her knees up to her chest and bit her lip, trying not to cry. She'd witnessed her sister impaling trolls on her 2x3dent for frankly stupid reasons, but she didn't honestly believe Meenah would try to kill _her_ over something so trivial. Despite this, she wasn't convinced that one day Meenah wouldn't try to kill her. If she ever attempted it, she would probably succeed. Feferi's only defense was to remain of more use to her alive than dead, and right now, it seemed she was.

Meenah would send her as an emissary in her stead to quell very minor issues that some of the high-bloods had or as a representative at openings of museums or schools or stores. Meenah always went to the bakery openings herself, though—for reasons Feferi could never fathom, Meenah loved baking.

But for pretty much all of her life, Feferi's only companion had been Meenah. She would sometimes log onto Trollian and chat with strangers on the internet, but she never bonded with any of them. Trolls were supposed to have had a matesprit or a kismesis or even a moirail by now, but all of Feferi's quadrants had always remained unfilled, and she was incredibly lonely. She'd never even had a real friend—even excluding potential moirallegiances. She had a feeling that, if she had someone else who could soothe her, her sister wouldn't intimidate her so much.

She climbed into her recuperacoon, and even after she heard through her shellphone that Meenah had departed to call on The Grand Highblood, Feferi didn't bother getting out until she was summoned for supper. She ate alone since Meenah hadn't returned.

* * *

The Condesce didn't return until two nights later, shortly after nightbreak. Feferi got an update on her shellphone—as did everyone in the palace—informing her that Her Imperious Condescension had arrived back from visiting The Grand Highblood, and Feferi knew that her first stop would be the ingestion block, where Feferi currently was, for breakfast. She wolfed down two more bites of food before she heard her sister approaching and immediately stood up, waiting for Meenah's entrance. A few moments later, the entrance portal blew open and The Condesce strode in, tapping her 2x3dent on the floor as she crossed the block, heading right for Feferi. "Girl, come here an' give yo' sista' some suga'!" she called, flinging her arms wide.

Feferi was used to these moods, too. Meenah was clearly a lot more cheerful than she had been two nights before, and she knew that the only way to keep her happy was to give her what she wanted, so she dutifully approached and kissed her sister on both cheeks. "Good evening, Meenah," she said. "Did you have a good trip to _sea_ The Grand Highblood?"

"Oh, _that_ bitch? She great an' all, but it's _fin_ tastic to be back here! I missed ma' little sista'!"

"Me, too," Feferi lied. "I'm glad you're back as _whale_."

"Ex _shell_ ent! _Water_ we eatin' today?"

It took nearly an hour for Meenah to stop talking about what a _beach_ The Grand Highblood was (Feferi had never met her, so she reserved judgment) and what issues The Grand Highblood was having with the low-bloods (Feferi had a suspicion that Meenah and The Grand Highblood had a kismesissitude going, but she knew better than to openly surmise on her sister's love life) and bring the conversation around to what she'd probably intended to tell Feferi in the first place.

"Oh, so while I was _glubbin'_ with The Grand Highbitch, I may a' mentioned yo' little suggestion about tourin' Alternia."

Feferi wanted to drop her head to the nutrition platform and groan. She knew already that it was a mistake—she didn't need Meenah telling The Grand Highblood about it, too. "I _sea_ ," she said quietly instead, forcing herself to keep looking at Meenah.

"Yeah, an' The Grand Highboob actually _fins_ it a halfway decent idea," Meenah went on. "She _glubbed_ me into seein' yo' point a' view on the whole fuckin' idea, an' I think I'ma let you do it."

Feferi couldn't believe it—Meenah had actually changed her mind on something. Meenah was actually _letting Feferi do something_! For a second, she was frozen, unsure if Meenah was playing an elaborate prank, but her sister seemed to be looking at her expectantly, so she asked, "R- _reel_ ly?"

"Yeah, _reel_ ly. Yo' right, you _min-now_. You gotta go out an' see the trolls you gonna rule eventually. Might as _whale_ do it now. Besides, it's about time you got outta the palace here—you been cooped up here for sweeps."

Still in shock, Feferi managed to choke out a thank you. Suddenly, she was swept by the nearly-overwhelming urge to run right out of the block and out of the palace and swim as far as she could. The air had a strange taste to it that almost seemed like freedom, and she just knew that this would be the start of something great. "So, when will I go?" she asked.

"To _marlin_ ," Meenah said simply. "You gonna meet up with The Grand Highblood's brother, The Young Highblood, an' he's gonna show you around Alternia since he been out there before. So you should go pack pretty quick."

Feferi nodded quickly, took one last bite—joy had filled her stomach far better than food—and absconded from the ingestion block in a much better mood than the last time she'd left her sister.

She hoped she would like The Young Highblood. Who knew? She might even find a moirail out of this whole situation.


	3. ORPHANER DUALSCAR I

_**Orphaner Dualscar** _

"Breathe," Cronus instructed. "You always have to remember that. It's the most important thing. In the heat a' battle, you'd be surprised at what's instinctual an' what isn't. Okay?"

"Okay." Eridan exhaled slowly, making a point of it so his brother would know how serious he was.

"Okay." Cronus smiled. "Bring the Crosshairs up, just below eye level. You should be able to do it one-handed eventually, but you're not that strong yet, so two hands is fine." He demonstrated with Ahab's Crosshairs as Eridan mimicked him with Starbuck's Crosshairs. It was a smaller, less-impressive version of his older brother's Ahab's Crosshairs, but it suited Cronus's purpose for training him. "Right hand," Cronus added, lowering his Crosshairs to correct Eridan. "Not the left hand. That puts you at a disadvantage."

"But I'm left-handed," Eridan protested. Cronus resisted the urge to cuff him over the head for whining. Eridan was nearing eight sweeps old now—almost an adult—and though he still whined like a wiggler sometimes, Cronus had to remind himself that he _wasn't_ a wiggler. The whining was something Cronus would have to fix, though. It wouldn't do for Orphaner Dualscar's younger brother to behave like a giant grub, even if in terms of his lifespan he still practically _was_ a grub.

"Doesn't matter," Cronus snapped. "You wanna be comfortable or you wanna survive a fight? Right hand."

Visibly sulking, Eridan switched his firing and non-firing hands.

Cronus nearly rolled his eyes, but he told himself that at least Eridan had listened to him. "Good. I know it feels uncomfortable now, but if you do it enough, it'll come naturally," he added, more gently.

Seeing Eridan standing there with a smaller replica of Ahab's Crosshairs in his hands filled Cronus with a strange mix of pride and sadness. He couldn't believe it had already been seven and a half sweeps since his lusus had found this little wiggler, seven and a half sweeps since he'd named the annoying little sauce-stain and taken him under his proverbial fin to teach him everything he knew. Even now, while Cronus had nine sweeps on him, Eridan was just shorter than him by a few hairs. He even had a title of his own. While Cronus had become known as Orphaner Dualscar, Eridan was The Eleventh. Cronus wasn't exactly sure how his brother had come by that title, but at this point, he didn't care all that much. His little wiggler brother was practically all grown up, and if Cronus was harsh with him, it was only because he wanted Eridan to survive past ten.

But the times when Cronus could say, "Do what I say because I say so" were long past. Even before he hit six sweeps, he was refusing to do just about anything unless Cronus explicitly stated why. It was annoying, but at the same time, once Eridan _knew_ why something was important—feeding their lusus, field-stripping their weapons, even cleaning up the hive—he didn't question it again. He supposed that was a good thing. Sometimes, though, he just wished Eridan would listen to him without asking _why_.

"Okay." Cronus brought Ahab's Crosshairs back up, using two hands to demonstrate proper technique although he didn't need to use both hands. This was for Eridan's benefit. "Crosshairs below eye level. Locate your target visually, without using the sights on the weapon," he said, referring to the two targets twenty yards away. One was for him, the other was for Eridan. "Got it?"

"Got it," Eridan confirmed.

"Once you've identified your target, raise the Crosshairs, use the sights to aim, an' fire. When you—"

_PCHOOOOO._

Cronus slowly lowered Ahab's Crosshairs and looked at Eridan's target. He hadn't even gotten _close_ to hitting it. He was about a half-dozen yards to the right, and three or four yards high. He let out a frustrated groan. "Damn it, Eridan, I wasn't _finished_!" Again, he very nearly smacked the back of Eridan's head, and again, he resisted, but barely.

"Sorry," Eridan mumbled, flushing purple in embarrassment.

Cronus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free and and sucked in several steadying, calming breaths. "Put the Crosshairs down," he said, not opening his eyes.

He heard the light clatter of Eridan setting Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground.

"Okay. Now you are gonna listen to me until I'm finished talkin', got it?"

"Got it."

"First, go an' retrieve that harpoon you just lost."

Eridan dashed off immediately, and Cronus finally opened his eyes, heaving another sigh. He was really trying not to be angry with his brother, but Eridan had a habit of getting excited about things and jumping the proverbial harpoon gun. It was an assured way of fucking everything up. There was so much Cronus had already taught him, and so much he had left to teach him.

Eridan returned almost ten minutes later with the harpoon in hand. His shirt was torn in two places—down the shoulder and across the middle—and he looked even more flustered than he did when he'd left. Still, he'd found the harpoon.

"Any damage to it?" Cronus was perfectly fine if a harpoon was ruined in battle or in target practice if it actually hit the right target, but if Eridan had wrecked it in a foolish mistake, he would be angry.

"No." Eridan held it out for his brother's inspection. Cronus only gave it a cursory glance—he'd be able to tell right away if the harpoon had been damaged, and it clearly hadn't.

"Good. Reseat it."

Eridan scrambled to pick up his Starbuck's Crosshairs and load the harpoon into the chamber. Once he'd closed it with a loud click, he looked at Cronus expectantly.

"Alright. Let's take it from the top. Watch me, but don't do _anythin'_ until I say so. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay. Breathin'—make sure you're always breathin'. Do _not_ hold your breath—your hand will shake an' it'll throw off your aim. Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He brought Ahab's Crosshairs up smoothly to demonstrate. "Eyes on target. Sights on target." He closed his left eye, centered the horned hoofbeastseye in the sights, and exhaled. "Once you have the target in sight, squeeze the trigger while you exhale." He let out another slow, deliberate breath, wrapping his index finger around the trigger, and squeezed. There wasn't much recoil on the Crosshairs to compensate for, and the harpoon shot out the end with another _PCHOOOOO_ sound. A split second later, the harpoon was embedded in the dead center of the target. Cronus released the trigger, lowered the Crosshairs, and looked at Eridan. "It's a lot to remember, I know, but it's all gonna be instinct if you do it enough. You gotta keep on practicing. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now listen very carefully. I want you to do exactly what I did, an' I want you to say the steps as you go along. Got it?"

"Got it." Eridan gave him a searching look, waiting for the order to actually do it.

"Alright. Go ahead."

"Okay. Breathe." Eridan let out a breath that could have almost been a sigh. "Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He drew up Starbuck's Crosshairs. The weapon trembled slightly; Eridan's arms strained under the weight. Cronus made a note of it. They'd have to work on Eridan's arm strength if he was going to get better at this. "Eyes on target." Eridan stared down the target. "Sights on target." He raised the Crosshairs a couple of inches to stare down the bore. Eridan's right eye closed, and again, Cronus was forcibly reminded that Eridan was left-handed. Lefties typically had strong left eyes when aiming. It was far less common for a right-handed shooter to have a strong left eye—it would certainly complicate things for Eridan, but one thing Cronus couldn't do was make Eridan aim with his right eye. Weak-eye aiming was sure to fail. "Exhale. Squeeze trigger." Eridan let out another slow, deliberate breath and fired.

 _PCHOOOOO_.

This time, the harpoon found its way to Eridan's target. Admittedly, it was now stuck in one of the outer rings, but at least it had hit the target this time. It was still pretty far to the right, but that could be fixed.

Eridan lowered the Crosshairs, grinning triumphantly, and looked at his brother expectantly.

Cronus couldn't help smiling—Eridan's was infectious. "That was much better. Good job. Do it again. An' this time, when you're usin' your sights to aim, drag to the left."

Eridan nodded quickly and brought Starbuck's Crosshairs back up. His eyes locked on the target, he raised the Crosshairs a little more, his right eye closed, and then the barrel of the Crosshairs swung a few inches to the left. Cronus heard Eridan exhale slowly, and then he fired again.

_PCHOOOOO._

"Wow," Cronus said, eyeing the target. "I call that a cull-shot."

This time, Eridan had managed to seat the harpoon in almost the dead center of the target. It certainly wasn't as perfect a shot as Cronus had demonstrated, but it was a pretty big improvement considering that fifteen minutes before, he'd shot the harpoon yards clear of the target. Besides, if the target had been a troll, they would be dead or close to it right about now.

Eridan looked so pleased with himself that Cronus couldn't resist ruffling his hair a bit. He shouldered Ahab's Crosshairs and opened his mouth to tell Eridan to fire again when, off in the distance, they both heard a low rumbling. They turned and stared in the direction of the sound.

Cronus's collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system began pounding harder. Those were engines—he could hear the low throb of motors and the high shriek of gears—and they were getting closer. Still staring up at the sky, he grabbed Eridan by the sleeve and yanked him bodily toward the edge of the clearing.

"Starbuck's Cross—" Eridan started, protesting loudly to be heard over the engines, but Cronus cut him off.

"Forget the damn Crosshairs! I don't know who the fuck that is, comin' up here like that, but I don't wanna be out here in the fuckin' open in case they're not friendly!" he shouted back, finally shoving Eridan against the nearest tree. Less than thirty seconds later, a huge ship passed overhead, her engines running so loudly that he had to drop Ahab's Crosshairs to the ground to cover his ears. He glanced at Eridan and was relieved to see that his brother was covering his ears, too. He looked back up and stared—now he recognized that red-hulled monstrosity with the huge trident painted on her.

 _The Condesce._ That was Her Imperious Condescension's flagship, _Battleship Condescension_. Cronus didn't realize it was possible for his collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system to work any harder than it already was, but upon realizing who was floating above him this very second, it began to race.

He was stupidly flushed for The Condesce, although, he supposed, so was half of Alternia. The other half probably harbored some strong caliginous feelings for her, so she no doubt had her share of suitors. Still, it was his goal to one day join her crew, and then, possibly, he could win her flushed affections that way. He just had to figure out _how_.

"Cro? You okay?" Eridan asked.

Cronus blinked. He realized he couldn't see The Condesce's ship anymore and the sound of her engines were fading. He dropped his hands from his ears. "Yeah. Just fine." He picked up Ahab's Crosshairs and brushed it off. "I'm... I'm goin' back to the hive to get more harpoons. You keep practicin', got it?"

"Got it."

They split up, Eridan trudging back to where he'd left Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground and Cronus heading back to their hive. The walk served to clear his think-pan—it wasn't every day that The Condesce passed by, and having her so close had upset his think-pan. He wasn't used to feeling this vulnerable, but he knew he had to find some way to get close to her.

The walk back to the clearing where Eridan was doing target practice seemed to take longer than the walk from it. He had two quivers of harpoons, one slung over each shoulder, and he decided that they wouldn't be going back to the hive until every harpoon had found their way to Eridan's target. So far, his brother was two for three—he just hoped his little brother hadn't shot himself while he was gone. That would just figure.

 _He's not a wiggler_ , he reminded himself. Eridan was almost grown, and he certainly wasn't an idiot. Sure, he could act stupid sometimes, but he had a fair amount of common sense. He could take care of himself.

Cronus arrived at the clearing just in time to see Eridan loose three harpoons in quick succession. Every single one of them hit the center circle of the target, and Cronus almost bounded over to Eridan to congratulate him until he saw how his younger brother was standing.

Eridan had switched to firing with his left hand.

Cronus sighed and rubbed his temples. He had more work ahead of him than he thought.


	4. THE SOPORITE I

_**The Soporite** _

Gamzee Makara stood beside his sister, awaiting the imminent arrival of Her Imperious Condescension's ship—and her sister, The Princess. He couldn't help thinking that he needed to be much more soporified for this, but Kurlas had expressly forbidden him from indulging in his sopor pies. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have stopped him, but she'd actually found his secret stash and thrown them down the load gaper. He'd almost completely lost control of his temper, but he'd had enough of his sopor pies still running through his system that he just punched the wall and all was better afterward. Kurlas didn't even look concerned.

But the moment was gone now and annoyance with his sister was setting in—and not just with her. He was annoyed (and slowly growing irate) with everything about this situation. The last thing he wanted was to be waiting for some fuchsia-blooded nook-sniffer. He had nothing but trepidation regarding The Princess—he'd met The Condesce, after all. He knew what _she_ was like. Why would her sister be any different?

He should have been hatched a low-blood. Being a high-blood—The Young Highblood, in training to be The Grand Highblood after Kurlas went the way of the one-horned hoofbeast—was too much work, too much pomp, too much ceremony for him. He would have even taken being hatched a slightly-lower blue-blood, a regular blue-blood or something so he could still be a subjugglator or a laughsassin. But no, in a few dozen sweeps, he would be The Grand Highblood.

Off in the distance came the low throb of engines approaching, followed shortly thereafter by a great red prow—the front of the _Battleship Condescension—_ rising over the horizon. Gamzee glanced up at his sister—their blood favored height over sanity, it appeared; despite being seven and a half sweeps old now, nearly grown, and tall for his age to boot, Kurlas was about a head and a half taller than him—but her face betrayed no flicker of emotion. He wondered again why his sister had agreed to this and, worse, decided that _he_ would be the one to escort The Princess on her tour of Alternia. He was the great embarrassment to high-bloods everywhere, after all.

 _Whose motherfucking thought bubble_ was _this, anyway?_ he wondered. Whoever had masterminded this nefarious plot was truly an evil genius—whether it was his sister or her sister, she was a cold, calculating she-beast.

As the battleship approached, Gamzee's dread grew. He would have given anything to be anywhere but here right now. Even his lusus had absconded, although that was a common enough occurrence. Gamzee wished he could have gone with him.

Finally, the battleship touched down and trolls in the uniform of the Imperial Fleet began disembarking and bustling about. Amid the chaos, another figure descended, someone with a 3dent—not Her Imperious Condescension's 2x3dent, but a regular 3dent. It could only be The Princess. Gamzee tried to smile as politely as he could as The Princess walked toward them.

"Princess," Kurlas boomed, throwing open her arms. "It's such an honor to have you here."

To Gamzee's surprise, The Princess sank to one knee to answer. "Grand Highblood, the honor is all mine. And, from what Her Imperious Condescension tells me, I have _you_ to thank for this wonderful op- _perch-tuna_ -ty." _Huh_ , Gamzee thought. _His_ sister was apparently the cause of all this think-pan throbbing, The Princess had her sister's penchant for fish puns, and she was apparently at least concerned enough with appearances to seem polite. Then again, so was Kurlas—it was why she wasn't cursing up a sky-water event and why Gamzee had been essentially forbidden from talking. The Princess went on. "And you, Young Highblood. It's a great honor to meet you."

She was talking to _him_? Gamzee wasn't often rendered speechless, but right now, he couldn't seem to think of anything to say. At least, not until Kurlas elbowed him in the shoulder and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Fuckin' amazing to meet you, motherfucker."

The Princess looked stunned and Kurlas seemed ready to strangle him. "Go inside," she said quietly, dangerously, and Gamzee knew better than to argue. He turned around and headed right inside. Behind him, he heard Kurlas saying something to The Princess, and The Princess laughed. Good. At least his sister was able to smooth things over.

Well, now all there was left to do was wait until tomorrow, when this whole ordeal would truly begin. He hoped he wouldn't have to make an appearance until then, because he was going to hunt up some more sopor pies before he went ballistic.

* * *

He could barely choke down dinner. His stomach was growling with hunger, but regular food in large quantities (for him; regular quantities for normal people) made him sick. He tried to eat because his sister would glare at him when The Princess wasn't looking, but he knew he had to find some more sopor pies in a hurry.

He went right up to his respiteblock after dinner and sulked. His recuperacoon had long since been moved out on Kurlas's orders, replaced by a slab of soft material called a bed that, while comfortable, would not yield any of the soporific slime he needed. He'd developed the habit of sneaking into other people's respiteblocks while their respective occupants were out and stealing a little bit from their recuperacoons, and he'd only been caught once. Still, no one would dare yell at The Young Highblood save Kurlas.

Gamzee went to bed soon after dinner, still trembling from hunger but determinedly avoiding sneaking off to another respiteblock. He'd just fallen into a light doze when he heard the entrance portal creak open and he was instantly awake.

"Sorry," a familiar voice whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"Princess?"

"Yes, sorry," she said, closing the portal behind her. At first, he thought she'd left, but then he caught sight of her crossing the floor, looking around. "Small in here."

"I don't take up much motherfucking room," Gamzee said. "Sorry," he added quietly, remembering that he shouldn't curse around The Princess.

"You shouldn't censor yourself around me," The Princess said, finally settling onto the edge of Gamzee's bed. "Soon you'll be the second-most powerful troll on Alternia."

"Second to you."

"True, but..." The Princess ran her nails through her hair. "I'm not The Condesce. I wanted to meet the ones I'm to rule one day. My sister be _reefs_ it's better to be feared than loved... But I be _reef_ the opposite." She pressed down on the mattress, as if just noticing it. "What the _glub_ _is_ this?"

"It's called a motherfucking bed," Gamzee said.

"What's it for?"

"Sleeping."

She gave him a puzzled look. "There's a recuperacoon in my respiteblock. Why don't you have one?"

"I... I'm not allowed," he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Not allowed?"

"I eat the sopor slime."

"Why? You know you're not supposed to eat that, right?"

He did _not_ want to get into that story. Not with The Princess, and definitely not right now. He didn't answer.

"Okay, I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

"It's just a long motherfucking story."

"I'm sorry. Something bad?"

Gamzee nodded.

"Is your... bed comfortable?"

"A little," he admitted. "Not like a motherfucking recuperacoon, though."

"No, I would imagine not." She gave him a small smile. "I'm Feferi. Once, you know, your sister isn't around, you can call me by my name if you want."

He stared at her, his eyes going wide, and he nodded slowly. Telling someone your actual name was a big deal—he only knew his and Kurlas's names. And now The Princess's, it seemed. "I'm Gamzee."

Her smile widened. "Hello, Gamzee. It's nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends."

 _Friends?_ He'd never had a real friend before. He couldn't wait to tell his lusus about this. He nodded happily as his stomach let out a long, low growl.

She gave him a concerned look. "You didn't eat at dinner," she said.

"Wasn't motherfucking hungry."

"You _shore?"_

He bit his lip. "Not for food."

"The sopor slime?"

He nodded. "I make them into pies."

She looked down at her knees, as if internally debating something. "I'll make you a deal, Gamzee. You can have a pie of sopor slime from my recuperacoon if you eat some regular food after, okay?"

"Okay," he said, visibly brightening.

"Promise me, Gamzee. I'm going to call upon your honor as a high-blood here," she added.

He paused and then nodded, slowly. "I promise."

"Good." She hopped off the edge of his bed. "Let's go."

"Thank you... Feferi."

* * *

He could tell that she didn't approve, but she didn't say anything as she watched him dig a pie tin full of sopor slime out of her recuperacoon and eat it as fast as he could. As soon as he finished, he belched happily. His stomach hurt a lot less and the throbbing in his think-pan had gone away.

"You promised," Feferi reminded him, and he suddenly remembered that he _had_ promised her to eat some regular food, and while he'd been reluctant to keep that promise earlier, finishing off a sopor pie had made him much more docile. He allowed himself to be led to the sustenance block and to the refrigerator, where she dug out leftovers from dinner. Gamzee sat down on the floor and ate until Feferi came and sat down next to him. "Feel better?"

He nodded, smiling. The grubsteak wasn't all that good to him, but he ate it anyway. It would make Feferi happy and he was too stoned to care about the taste anyway.

He wondered if normal moirallegiances were like this and if that was what this was—a moirallegiance. It certainly felt like one—he couldn't recall anyone who had gotten him to eat normal food with as little complaint—but he'd never had the pale quadrant filled before, so he couldn't be sure.

Once he'd cleared his plate, he belched again and made a face. Feferi giggled, set his plate in the cleansing basin, and sat back down next to him on the floor.

"So why'd you motherfucking do this for me?" he asked.

"Well, you're going to be my Grand Highblood one day. We should be friends, at least. Besides, someone needs to take care of you, and I don't think your sister _or_ your lusus has done a very good job of that. _My_ sister isn't the greatest, either, but at least she taught me a few things."

It certainly sounded like pale flirting to him, and it made him happy. "My lusus is always away," he said. "He spends a lot of motherfucking time out at sea."

"Why?"

Gamzee shrugged. "I don't think he motherfucking likes Kurlas all that much."

"Who's Kurl—wait, your sister?"

"Yeah."

"But he likes you?"

"As far as I can motherfucking tell."

" _Whale_ , that makes sense. You seem nice enough to me."

 _I'm not always this motherfucking nice._ "Thanks. So do you."

She smiled and he could tell immediately he'd said the right thing. "So how old are you?"

"Seven and a half. You?"

"Nine and a half."

"I didn't motherfucking know you were that old. I thought you were younger."

"I think Meenah likes to pretend I'm younger."

"Meenah?"

She looked sheepish. "Sorry. The Condesce, I mean. She's been basically the only person I've ever _glubbed_ to, apart from servants and people I've seen when she sends me out." She scratched the back of her neck. "This is the longest I've ever _glubbed_ with someone who _wasn't_ my sister."

"Same. Kurlas likes to motherfucking hide me. She's embarrassed of me." True, he did get to go out and mingle with the low-bloods sometimes, which was why he was Feferi's escort on this whole ill-advised excursion, but he always had an entourage of Defenders to keep the low-bloods at arm's length. Mostly, he suspected, for their protection as opposed to his own.

"Why?"

"She's embarrassed by me."

"That's her mistake then. I think you're _fin_ tastic and you're going to make a _betta_ Grand Highblood than her."

"Not me."

She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Not right now, you're not. But one day, I think you'll be great. You still have a lot to learn, but I think you'll do just fine when the time comes."

He drew his knees up to his chest and looked at her. He'd been given this spiel before by other people before, but never with this amount of kindness behind it. For whatever reason, Feferi cared about him—and for the first time, he could see the truth behind what she was saying. Maybe he _could_ be a better Grand Highblood than Kurlas. Maybe this would be a good thing, this trip to see Alternia. "You know, I'm motherfucking happy Kurlas suggested this."

Feferi blinked. "She didn't. It was my idea. The Condesce mentioned it to your sister on her last visit and your sister liked the idea so much that she convinced _my_ sister to let me. You didn't know that?"

Gamzee shook his head. "I didn't think you wanted to motherfucking be here any more than I did."

"Hmm." Feferi ran her nails through her hair again. "Well, after nine and a half sweeps stuck under my sister's watchful gaze, I wanted a bit of space. I'm glad your sister changed her mind."

"Then I motherfucking am, too."

She smiled at took his hand. "Come on. We need to get some sleep if we're going to be up early to _marlin_."

Again, Gamzee allowed himself to be led away, hoping that he'd found himself a first, real moirail.


	5. E%ECUTOR DARKLEER I

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

Didn't he own even _one_ pair of goggles that weren't cracked?

"Horuss," he rasped, but he might as well not have bothered. His brother—The Engineer, he was called, a titled Horuss had acquired from him—was entirely focused on his current project. It looked to be a completely autonomous robot, a feat that he himself had not managed to even come close to during his five sweeps as The Engineer, but somehow, after barely two sweeps, his younger brother had basically surpassed him. Not that Equius hadn't been an incredibly gifted Engineer in his own right, but Horuss was better, with a knack for figuring out what components worked best and where.

Realizing he wasn't about to get Horuss's attention from the other side of the block, Equius pushed back from his workbench, where he'd been crafting and sharpening his arrows, and strode across the block in five long strides that nearly shook the hive to its foundation. He gave Horuss a firm tap on the shoulder, a touch that would have horribly bruised a lesser troll, but not a Zahhak. Their blood was stronger—their _everything_ was stronger. It was why both Equius and Horuss consistently broke the lenses on their goggles and sunglasses and why Equius continually broke his teeth. Neither of them had quite gotten the hang of managing their own strength, so they were unable to accomplish more delicate tasks. Equius's teeth usually grew back, though, so he wasn't too concerned about that particular issue. "Horuss," he said again.

This time, he attracted his brother's attention. "Yes, brother?" Horuss asked, spinning his seat around and flipping up his face shield.

Ah, yes, his brother. He was always so formal, more concerned with genteel behavior befitting his blue blood, more so than even Equius. It made him incredibly respectful to highbloods and lowbloods alike, although he still regarded the lower castes with a heavy degree of disdain. Toward the highbloods, he had nothing but the utmost respect. Equius didn't doubt that Horuss might one day work for The Grand Highblood or maybe even Her Imperious Condescension, perhaps as an E%ecutor like himself, but no matter what capacity he served in, he would make a fine one.

"The Princess and The S—I mean, The Young Highblood—will be here shortly." He'd almost referred to The Young Highblood by his unofficial, disrespectful nickname. He'd heard it so much from the lowbloods that he'd unconsciously picked up the habit. It was all well and good for the lowbloods, but not for a blue-blood like him. Besides, he didn't want to set a poor example for Horuss. "We must be ready to receive them. Do you have any unbroken sunglasses or goggles?"

"Yes, brother." Horuss removed his face shield, set it on the bench behind him, deftly slipped the strap of his goggles over his head without snagging it on his horns (an impressive feat on its own), and handed them over to Equius. Now that his dark-lensed goggles were off, Equius could see his brother's eyes. They were hard and seemingly cold, but he knew the apparent coldness was a mask for his polite courtesy. He was proper, logical, and respectful almost to a fault.

"Is this your only unbroken pair?" Equius asked, holding the goggles as loosely as he could without dropping them.

"Yes." Horuss wiped the sheen of sweat from his face with the towel that hung from around his neck. "However, I have a few more where the cracks aren't very noticeable."

Equius opened his mouth to protest—he couldn't take his brother's best pair of goggles, not when he could so easily break them—but Horuss cut him off. "You are an E%ecutor, in direct service of The Grand Highblood herself. It is imperative that you look your best for The Young Highblood, as well as The Princess. It would behoove us to ensure that any reports they pass on to their respective sisters do not cast you or anyone in the E%ecutor Corps in a negative light."

Equius could see his brother's logic in this. "I suppose you're right." He wasn't just _in_ the E%ecutor Corps, either—he was the commander, the youngest in Alternian history at only fifteen and a half sweeps old. It was almost unheard-of for E%ecutor commanders to gain their post before twenty, but Equius had proven himself a worthy, obedient E%ecutor, and The Grand Highblood, in her terminal capriciousness, had seen fit to elevate him to the commanding role less than a sweep ago, after the previous commander was culled for abusing her authority. E%ecutor Corps commanders typically had short lives and brutal deaths, but there was glory in the service.

"And while we're discussing the matter," Horuss added, pushing himself to his feet, "perhaps a visit to the ablution trap is in order."

Equius looked down, considering the perspiration on his own skin, and decided that yet again, Horuss had the right of it. It would not do to greet The Princess and The Young Highblood, the heirs of the two most powerful trolls on Alternia, covered in sweat and in greasy clothing. In fact, both of them could do with ablutions.

* * *

An hour later, cleaned and pressed (as well as either of them was going to get), the Zahhaks waited outside their hive for the arrival of the imperial party. Equius was six sweeps older than Horuss, but aside from the difference in their ages (and their height—Equius was taller than Horuss, but by less than half a head), they were nearly identical. Equius wore the traditional garb of an E&ecutor excepting the goggles over his eyes, befitting both his title and his blood, letting his long hair fall free to three-quarters of the way down his back. Horuss had tied his hair back, as he did whenever he worked to keep it from getting in his face, and since his official title was The Engineer, he dressed as he always did: a work smock made from the finest hoofbeast leather, long pants made from the same, heavy boots with toes reinforced with metal, and a long-sleeved leather shirt with matching gloves. His goggles (cracked, but he'd been right in saying that it wasn't all that noticeable) were firmly over his eyes.

Their lusus Aurthour had come to collect from from the respiteblock upon receiving a communication that the ship would arrive shortly, but they'd waited until they could hear the engines of the _Battleship Condescension_ approaching before actually exiting to wait. By the time the ship touched down, Equius had begun to wish that he'd tied his hair back as well—the gusts from the engines had turned it into a hopeless mess, and it was all he could do to keep his back straight and retain every shred of dignity he could muster.

The Princess descended from the _Battleship Condescension_ with The Young Highblood in tow, and as one, the Zahhaks sank to one knee and bowed their heads. "Princess," Equius boomed to be heard over the roar of the engines that were still in the process of winding down, "it is a great honor to welcome you here on behalf of the E%ecutor Corps." He looked up to address The Young Highblood. "And you, Young Highblood. It is a most joyous occasion to see you again."

The indigo blood looked extremely confused. "We met before, motherfucker?"

Equius felt his eyes widen in horror (neither The Princess nor The Young Highblood could tell with his goggles, although his eyebrows were surely in danger of disappearing into his hairline) and next to him, he just barely heard Horuss mutter, "Disgusting behavior." He couldn't believe the way The Young Highblood was already conducting himself, and it had only been moments since he'd arrived. Equius had somehow expected more from him—he did know of The Young Highblood's reputation and his proclivity toward indecorous behavior, but he had still anticipated The Young Highblood to act with more poise than _this_. And as for Horuss's assessment, Equius couldn't deny that it was spot-on, but he had to resist the urge to smack the back of his brother's head. It was doubtful either of the higher-bloods noticed his comment, but that wasn't the point. Horuss needed to keep his mouth shut under these circumstances.

"Yes, Young Highblood. It was about seven sweeps ago—you were still a wiggler, I'm afraid." Horuss hadn't even been hatched then—in fact, Equius didn't think he'd ever mentioned meeting The Young Highblood to him. He'd obviously met The Grand Highblood several times, but The Young Highblood, since their initial meeting seven sweeps ago, had been sequestered away every other time. Now, Equius truly understood why—the heir was an embarrassment. He couldn't believe that this troll was the heir to The Grand Highblood's seat. Alternia was doomed. He could only hope that The Princess displayed greater charm.

"Oh. Cool shit then, motherfucker. Good to see you again, too!"

This could not be happening. _Show a little more decorum!_ he wanted to scream at The Young Highblood, but he kept his mouth obediently shut. No matter how he tainted his blood with sopor pies (a habit nearly everyone on Alternia knew about, leading to his unofficial title of The Soporite) and polluted it with the toxic fizzy drinks he loved so much, he _was_ The Young Highblood, and Equius was honor-bound to follow him. That was the whole point of the E%ecutor Corps—to serve the higher castes, no matter how unworthy they were of their noble blood.

As the engines died down and Equius's hair stopped whipping against his back, The Princess looked from The Young Highblood back to him. "Rise, E%ecutor Darkleer, and you, too, Engineer," she said graciously, smiling, offering Equius her hand to help him to his feet.

He began to sweat. There was no way he could get out of taking her hand without seeming impolite, but if he did, he would surely bruise her. He had no more time to think on it further, either, since Horuss was already straightening up. Flushing blue with embarrassment, he took her hand as gingerly as possible and climbed to his feet under his own strength. He finally stood and released her hand, and when he let it go, it was faintly fuchsia. _Curses._ He'd actually managed to bruise her. "My apologies," he murmured quickly. "I'm afraid I'm stronger than I look."

"Oh." The Princess regarded her hand with a curious look. "It's quite alright, Darkleer. I would imagine the commander of the E%ecutor Corps would have a firm handle on the task."

Equius was fairly certain she'd made a joke. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile before The Princess herself started smiling, and then both he and Horuss were laughing. Only The Young Highblood seemed oblivious to the exchange, although he was still smiling to himself as he stared off into the sky. _He is as high as a wind-diamond_ , Equius realized.

"I've actually meant to come see you for quite some time, but Her Imperious Condescension had other duties for me to attend to," The Princess went on. "I understand you've held your post for about two sweeps now, correct?"

"Yes, Princess."

"And who was the E%ecutor Corps commander before you?"

"E%ecutor Goldrage." She'd chosen her name because of her purple blood (having someone of so high a caste as to be a seadweller was extremely rare, and there hadn't been one in hundreds of sweeps, so despite the fact that it made her subservient to a caste lower than her own, she still agreed to act as commander) and, thus, her habit of adorning her uniform with gold trim as well as her tendency to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. As far as commanders went, hers had been a rather long command—eleven sweeps, in fact—but toward the end, she had grown increasingly more abusive to the newer E%ecutors, including Equius himself. He knew he'd been chosen over the heads of candidates who were seen as more qualified, so he was determined to prove that he had been the right choice.

"I'm afraid I never met Goldrage, either."

"That does not surprise me, Princess. Her appointment came before you were hatched."

The Princess nodded like this settled the matter. " _Whale_ , Darkleer, my sister and The Grand Highblood tell me that the E%ecutor Corps have only flourished under your leadership. Would it be possible for me to meet some of them?"

Equius had not only expected this eventuality, but hoped for it. He had chosen ten of his best E%ecutors—his second-in-command, Luminous, several lieutenants, and a handful of recruits—for just this purpose. They were all standing by at the barracks waiting for them. "Absolutely, Princess. It would be my pleasure."

"Excellent. Lead the way, Darkleer."

"It is a short walk to the compound," he said, offering her his arm to lead their small party.

"That's just fine. I wanted to talk to you and your brother a little more."

Equius could almost feel the surprise radiating off of Horuss at that, but before either of them could say a word in response, The Princess was continuing. "Tell me, Engineer, do you plan on following your brother into the E%ecutor Corps?"

Horuss cleared his throat. "To be quite honest, Princess, I do look forward to serving under Her Imperious Condescension or The Grand Highblood one day, but I feel my skills would be put to better use in a different capacity other than E%ecutor."

 _Deftly done._ Horuss had a way with words that Equius did not quite possess. He would no doubt amount to something greater than Equius himself, which was all he could hope for in regards to his younger brother's future.

"Any thoughts in particular?" The Princess inquired.

"My brother is an exceptionally gifted mechanic and steamwright. He has already begun building a completely autonomous robot," Equius said. "Perhaps he could be of use in that regard."

"Really?" The Princess sounded intrigued, which was only good news. "And how old are you now, Engineer?"

"Nine and a half, Princess," Horuss said.

The Princess laughed lightly. "The same age as me, and yet far more accomplished. Very impressive, Engineer."

"Surely The Princess has had other concerns above and beyond the design of mere playthings," Horuss said, managing to soothe The Princess's not-at-all bruised ego and downplay his own achievements. Modesty was another of his finer qualities.

"I suppose you're right," The Princess said, still smiling. "Perhaps when we're done here, you _whale_ show me what you're working on?"

"It would be the greatest of honors," Horuss said, bowing low as he walked even though The Princess probably couldn't see him.

Equius couldn't help smiling to himself. Despite the rocky beginning, this was looking to be an excellent meeting already.


	6. THE SCORPION

_**The Scorpion** _

The gentle rocking of the waves when the _Blackweb_ was moored to a pier was always soothing enough to lull Vriska into a deep sleep, even without the typical hive comforts like a recuperacoon. Since the _Blackweb_ was a ship, she had to sleep in a hammock strung up between two posts in a block shared with her sister, but somehow, she was able to sleep soundly despite it.

When the _Blackweb_ was out at sea, however, the waves were stronger and only had a tendency to make her cling to the railings and try not to lose her dinner.

This was exactly what she was doing right now, wondering why they weren't in port right now. Vriska had been woken up suddenly in the middle of the day by Aranea and told to pack her bag, and by this point, Vriska knew better than to question Aranea when she gave an order with that furious look in her eyes. They gathered the few possessions they kept at their small land-based hive, a hidden place where they stayed when they'd be in port for awhile, and stole away to the _Blackweb_ while the rest of the planet slept. As far as Vriska knew, Aranea hadn't discovered the location of the Fluorite Octet yet, which was the only reason she figured Aranea would wake her up so suddenly—she'd told Vriska she would need Orphaner Dualscar's help with that, and she hadn't seen the pretentious sea-dwelling douche-fin anywhere near their ship since they put to sea nearly a week ago. For reasons completely unfathomable to her, Aranea had a pretty strong kismesissitude going with him, but Vriska's hatred of him was of the completely unerotic variety (which, she supposed, worked out just fine, since he was _Aranea's_ kismesis after all); she just found him to be irritating.

One particularly strong wave beat against the side of the ship, and Vriska groaned, trying to hold down her food. This happened every time they went to sea, too—it took her a week or two to get her sea legs back, and in the meantime, she spent her time in a state of abject misery. She would make a pretty pathetic pirate if she didn't figure this out soon. No one was going to respect a seasick pirate queen.

She didn't hear Aranea's high-heeled boots clacking on the deck behind her, but she did hear her say in a deliberately mocking tone, "Aw, sick again?"

Vriska lifted her head from over the side in a feeble attempt to glare at her, but with another precarious rock of the ship, she white-knuckled the railing and finally let loose the proverbial beast.

Aranea sighed. "Fuck, Vriska, I thought you'd be over this by now. It only took me a sweep to get used to a life at sea," she reminded Vriska in that "better than you" way she had.

Vriska was seven and a half, but Aranea was fifteen and a half and had been stowing away on ships since she was four. It was no wonder she'd gotten used to sea life so fast, or why she was such a good pirate queen—although she never referred to herself as a queen; she was Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, a self-styled pirate captain who was quickly gaining a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

But Vriska hadn't put to sea until just about a sweep ago. Whenever Aranea had set sail before then, Vriska had been left utterly alone—the lusus that they were supposed to have had had died when Aranea was four, leading her to pursue a free life on her own. Four sweeps later, during one of her land-based travels, she'd happened to find another little cerulean-blooded grub and, instead of culling her like Vriska would have done, decided to raise her by herself. And seven and a half sweeps later, here Vriska was, clutching the railing of the _Blackweb_ and hating life.

"What are we even _doing_ out here, anyway?" Vriska asked once she finished heaving, choosing to ignore her sister's tone. She shakily half-turned to look at her.

Aranea's response came a beat later than she expected. "Dualscar is coming."

Vriska could just tell she was lying, but as she was still seasick, she opted not to press it further. She kept her mouth firmly shut, looked back out to the horizon, and hoped that the next time she threw up, she wouldn't get vomit on her boots.

After a few moments, Aranea's footsteps retreated and Vriska exhaled sharply through her nose. She absolutely hated sea life right now, and she could not wait to get back to port.

* * *

Vriska waited on the weather decks until she was sure her nausea had subsided for the time being. She didn't think she could keep anything else down, and besides, the sun looked to be about to rise, so she heaved a sigh and headed toward what served as a respiteblock for her and Aranea. On the way there, she happened to pass by her sister's meetingblock, and since she heard voices, she stopped, backed up, and peered through a crack in the wood.

That was her sister at the head of the nutrition platform, of course—Vriska recognized her sister by her outfit alone. The long black coat with silver buttons, cerulean-blue trim, and the Serket sign on the left breast was unmistakeable. But next to her... Vriska had to squint before she recognized him. It had been half a sweep since she saw him last, but now that she was looking, she knew exactly who he was. With that ridiculous black-and-purple getup with obnoxious gold jewelry on his fingers, at his wrists, and around his neck (as well as that stupid blue harpoon gun in the corner), this could be none other than Orphaner Dualscar himself. Of course, the twin scars just below his hairline tipped her off a little, too.

In addition to propping his gun up in the corner, he'd hung up his dripping-wet purple cape. Dualscar himself was still soaked from the looks of it, meaning he'd just arrived no more than a half an hour ago. Every so often, he would run his fingers through his hair to smooth it back from his face, the seawater sticking the bulk of it to his head, but stray strands kept falling into his eyes. Vriska gritted her teeth.

She absolutely hated this guy with his dashing seadweller good looks and his "be my kismesis" charm. She had no idea how Aranea could stand the prospect of filling buckets with this asshole, but there must have been some challenge she saw that Vriska didn't, somewhere beneath the surface. Vriska was pretty sure he had all the depth of a puddle, but there might have been something she couldn't see, even with her vision eightfold.

But her sister and Dualscar were talking quietly, their heads together, her hand over his, poring over a map—of what, Vriska couldn't see. She looked closer and realized that she wasn't holding his hand, she was digging her nails into his skin, sending small rivulets of purple welling up and streaming to the surface of the nutrition platform, and he was smirking like it was all just a big joke while at the same time, pointing out something on the map. After a few moments, Aranea finally moved her hand, her nails and fingertips smeared with Dualscar's blood, and the whole situation left Vriska feeling slightly unsettled. There was something here she was missing—she knew it—but she couldn't tell what.

She'd just backed away from the door to continue on to her rack when she heard two words float out. "... _The Condesce..._ " Dualscar said, and Vriska hurried back.

"It was her ship, though," Aranea was saying, not looking at the map anymore.

"I asked around. She wasn't on it." He sounded bitter.

"No one takes the _Battleship Condescension_ but The Condesce," Aranea informed him in her know-it-all demeanor. Vriska thought it was a relief that she didn't drop that act for _anyone_ , even her kismesis.

"Ah, but someone _does_ ," Dualscar said, and his tone was so obnoxious that Vriska nearly gagged for reasons completely separate from the rocking of the _Blackweb_.

"Not... not The Princess."

"Yes, The Princess." Dualscar was so smug that Vriska had to actively fight not to groan. She didn't want to clue her sister in that she was eavesdropping.

"But The Condesce has kept her locked up in that palace for sweeps," Aranea argued.

"Not anymore. Her Imperious Condescension decided that since The Princess is nine an' a half now, she should see Alternia in its entirety. The Princess is on a grand tour a' the planet with The Young Highblood," he added, his voice practically dripping with disdain.

"The _Soporite_? That clown? What kind of benefit does The Condesce think will come of having _him_ escort The Princess?"

"I can't imagine, but someone, whether it be The Condesce or The Grand Highblood, did not think this through."

Aranea scoffed. "Since when could _anyone_ expect the Grand Highblood to act logically? She's been mad ever since she ascended to the throne."

Dualscar laughed. "An' The Young Highblood won't be any better when he ascends, either. The Soporite's an addict. If anything, he'll be worse than her."

"Do you get the feeling The Princess had no idea what she was getting into?" Aranea asked, dragging her nails down the back of Dualscar's hand.

Dualscar's grin widened, and he covered her hand with his other one. "Probably not. Almost makes you feel bad for her, doesn't it?"

Aranea scoffed again and shook her head. "Not likely. If The Young Highblood is that similar to his sister, I can't even imagine how much worse life under The Princess will get once _she_ ascends."

"Her first stop after pickin' up The Young Highblood was to inspect some of the E%ecutor Corps."

"She saw Darkleer?"

"That she did. An' The Engineer. I think Darkleer's _anglin_ ' to get his brother in with The Grand Highblood or The Condesce."

Aranea groaned as he spoke. "I really ought to slap you for that pun."

Vriska could count every one of Dualscar's teeth when he grinned that wide. "Maybe you should."

 _Fuck, enough of the hate-flirting. Move on to the juicy stuff!_ She wanted more information on this Darkleer guy. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Later," Aranea practically purred, leaning in closer to Dualscar and dropping her voice so Vriska had to strain to hear her. "Where's The Princess supposed to go next?"

"As far as I can tell, she's headin' out to see the legislacerators next."

"Which means Redglare."

"Exactly."

"When do you think it'll be safe for us to return to port? I have to think about my sister, after all."

Dualscar seemed annoyed with that comment, and Vriska felt her hackles raise—apparently he didn't like _her_ very much, either—until he said, "Don't you think I'm worried about my _own_ brother? He's out there by himself right now."

"But he's—"

"The same age as The Scorpion," Dualscar said, referring to Vriska by her title. He didn't know her real name, just as she didn't know his. Names were a personal thing. You generally only revealed your name to someone you were filling a quadrant with—that's why titles were so important. She hadn't done much to earn her title except become rather well-known in the village she and Aranea hid out in for the redrom games she liked to play with the lowbloods. Let Aranea have her blackrom flirtations all she wanted—Vriska's forte was redrom, and she was really good at stinging the lowbloods right where it hurt.

 _Huh. Dualscar's got a brother my age._ His brother wouldn't be a lowblood, but it _would_ pose an interesting challenge. Plus there would be a pleasing symmetry in pursuing a quadrant (probably the flushed one, but then again, maybe she could find in him a decent kismesis) with the brother of her sister's kismesis.

"An' unlike The Scorpion, The Eleventh hasn't had to spend a whole lot a' time by himself. Your sister has you, after all, but right now, my brother is alone," Dualscar went on.

"They're not going to be wigglers forever."

"I know that. That's what scares me."

They were both quiet for a few moments, and Vriska contemplated slinking away from the door again—she wasn't worried about any of the other crew members catching her because even if they did, they were all mostly lowbloods and she could use her mind-control powers to make them forget what they saw. Aranea would never know unless she or Dualscar discovered her. But she was getting tired and the sun was rising.

"I heard rumors," Dualscar said quietly. "I don't know how well-founded they are, but they all seem to agree that The Princess won't be returning to the palace for awhile. They say that this tour is supposed to take a sweep at least."

"A _sweep_? How the fuck long—"

"I don't know." He finally pulled his hands away from her and stood up. Running his fingers through his hair again (although it seemed to be more out of frustration than because it was still drying), he started pacing the deck, continuing, "I _also_ don't know what The Condesce has told The Princess about you, so until she returns to the palace, it's safer for both of you out here. You're mobile this way. An'..." He sighed. "If she gets too close, you an' your sister can hide with us."

"Cronus, that's _not_ a solution." Vriska felt her eyes widen—she knew Dualscar's name now. _Cronus._ "This is a fucking _sweep_ that we're wasting out here while we should be finding the Fluorite Octet! You promised me you would help me with that!"

"Damn it, I'm _working_ on it! The thing's been lost for _how_ many sweeps now? It's not just gonna pop out of the sea and land on your fucking deck, you know!"

Aranea groaned. "Alright, fine." She drummed her fingers on the nutrition platform and Dualscar finally sat back down, albeit in a different chair, examining the nail marks and drying blood on the back of his hand. "I thought you and The Eleventh lived underwater," she said abruptly. "How could we possibly join you?"

Dualscar chuckled. "How do you think I'm so good at hidin'? Everyone expects the dreadful Orphaner Dualscar to have a' underwater hive, so, naturally, The Eleventh an' I live on land. We're still pretty close to the sea, though. We could moor the _Blackweb_ to our dock an' figure out some way to cloak it so even if The Princess passed right overhead, she wouldn't know it was your ship, an' we got plenty a' blocks that don't have a use. Your sister would have a whole wing to herself, an' you..." His voice trailed off, and Vriska couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw both Dualscar and Aranea _blushing_.

_Sickening._

"You're an ass," Aranea said with a fond grin. "You just want to keep me close to you."

"Can you blame me? I'm sure you got plenty a' caliginous suitors tryin' to climb your riggin'."

"What, like you don't?"

"One kismesis is plenty. Especially one as high-maintenance as you."

Aranea laughed. "So, what, trying to focus on other quadrants?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"So you finally have your eye on a matesprit. It's about damn time. Who?"

"You're gonna laugh."

"I was going to laugh no matter what."

"You're not bein' very encouragin'."

Aranea chuckled softly, pushed her chair back, and climbed into Dualscar's lap. From this angle, Vriska couldn't see exactly what she was doing but she suspected her sister was biting on his fin. He closed his eyes and let out a loud groan, digging his nails into her shoulders but not pushing her away.

"How about now?" Aranea murmured.

"You're gonna hate me."

"I already do."

"Not the right kinda hate. You're gonna wanna kill me."

"I'll try to suppress the instinct." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Tell me."

He sighed. "It's stupid, Aranea. I don't think anythin' gonna come of it. She probably doesn't know I exist, an' it would be complicated anyway. It's just a crush."

"Tell me anyway."

He waited another three seconds before he murmured, "The Condesce."

 _This_ was interesting news. Vriska had been just about to slink away, but her interest had been snatched back. She didn't register any shift in her sister's expression, but a moment later, Aranea slapped Dualscar as hard as she could. His head snapped to the side and Vriska could, for a few moments, see his whole face; there was already a faintly purple mark on his cheek. Then he looked back at Aranea. "I told you."

"That you did, and thanks for the warning. Now then, how the _fuck_ do you expect _that_ relationship to work when she's _hunting me down_?!"

"I _said_ it was gonna be complicated."

"Yeah, really fucking complicated. Your matesprit trying to kill your kismesis—that's not how it fucking works, Orphaner!"

"Yeah, I _know_. Just fuckin' listen, okay. I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't have selfish reasons for it—I _am_ flushed for her, after all—but this is for your benefit, too."

" _How?_ "

"If— _if_ —she ever reciprocated my flushed feelins', I'd tell her you're my kismesis. Quadrant rules basically dictate that you can't hurt anyone fillin' a quadrant with someone _you're_ fillin' a quadrant with, remember? So—"

"So she wouldn't be able to hurt me," Aranea said quietly.

"Exactly."

"Nice try, Cronus, but since when has The Condesce ever played fair? She's not going to let herself be constrained by romance rules, not with Marquise Spinneret Mindfang on the loose."

Dualscar half-smiled and wrapped his arms around Aranea, who was still sitting in his lap. "My Marquise, the Scourge a' the Seas."

"And like you said, it's The Condesce. The odds..."

"Exactly. One in billions. An' in the meantime, I got my kismesis to keep me warm."

Aranea leaned down to bite at his lips, and Vriska was pretty sure that she was not about to get any more pertinent information from either of them and also that they were not going to stop this time. She _really_ didn't want to witness her sister filling buckets with anyone, so she slunk away to her hammock, wondering how she was going to survive a full sweep at sea.


	7. NEOPHYTE REDGLARE I

_**Neophyte Redglare** _

Latula Pyrope straightened her glasses, a deep pride welling in her chest as she carefully looked over her reflection. The square-framed red-tinted glasses were an affectation adopted to appease (well, more to comfort) her sister Terezi, who wore her pointed red glasses to disguise her blindness, but her attire—that of a Judicate legislacerator—was new, a mark of her imminent graduation from the ranks of the Neophytes. She'd been working at this for four sweeps now, ever since she was nine and a half—putting her at among the youngest of her peers—and today, in mere hours, all her hard work would pay off.

But this promotion would be made all the more special because today, The Princess would attend the ceremony as well. The Young Highblood was also rumored to be attending as The Princess's escort, but Latula regarded that news with nothing but dread. She knew of The Soporite's reputation—everyone did. Seeing him, even in the company of The Princess, would be an ordeal. But that was the only aspect of today she had any reservations about.

Terezi, on the other hand... She either hadn't heard (laughable—there was very little she didn't hear or smell or taste or feel due to their lusus's instruction) about The Soporite's presence or simply didn't care that he would be there. She was just excited to be around all the graduating legislacerators and ask them questions, something Latula wished she wouldn't do, but short of confining Terezi to their hive with Pyralspite, there was nothing she could do to prevent it (and she certainly wasn't going to force Terezi to miss this event). And maybe it was for the best—after all, it was Terezi's goal to follow in her footsteps as a legislacerator. Normally, her blindness would disqualify her from nearly everything (normally, it would be reason enough for Terezi to be culled), but she navigated to well due to Pyralspite's teaching that she didn't appear to outsiders to be blind. The only way the know she was blind was to actually see her eyes, something Terezi never allowed, at least in public. Her red glasses stayed firmly on her face all the time. She knew well enough that her disability would get her culled, but she refused to let to hold her back.

In many ways, Terezi was the person Latula admired the most. She knew she was in danger, but it didn't stop her from having goals, and the fact that she wanted to be what Latula was now was just an added bonus.

"We have to leave soon," she called over her shoulder to Terezi, who was lying on her stomach poking at Pyralspite with her white cane. She only used it in the hive, the only concession she would make to her blindness. "I'd like to be there before The Princess and The Soporite. Are you almost ready?"

"I'm ready now!" Terezi announced, jumping to her feet and instinctively brushing off her black pants. She had either felt or smelled the dust on her clothing.

Latula blinked, stunned. "But that's what you always wear! The Princess and The Young Highblood are going to be there!"

Terezi cocked her head to the side for a moment. "It's comfortable."

"You have to wear something else." It was too simple—black pants and a black shirt with their sign in the same color as their teal blood—and everyone else there would be dressed much more nicely. The graduates would all be wearing the attire of the Judicate legislacerators, of course, but everyone observing would be dressed to impress, and the last thing Latula wanted was for Terezi to draw undue attention to herself. It was fine if she stood out because of any intelligence she displayed, but even the tiniest bit of negative attention could be damning. If The Princess was anything like Her Imperious Condescension, she wouldn't hesitate to cull a blind girl on the spot.

And The Soporite... Latula shuddered internally. She couldn't even imagine what kind of destruction might result from his presence. It would no doubt be a fiasco if anything set him off. It had only been three and a half sweeps or so since what the lowbloods referred to in hushed tones as The Incident, but despite the small number of actual witnesses, just about everyone knew the details. The Young Highblood was violently unstable, just like his sister. No one would be safe with him on the loose.

So it was imperative that everything appeared as high-end as possible. That included changing Terezi out of her everyday clothes and into something a little more appropriate for this event.

It took a bit of cajoling, but using the reasoning skills borne of her legislacerator training, Latula was able to talk Terezi into changing her clothes. The pants were traded for teal silk trousers, and though she wasn't a legislacerator yet, she wore a red silk shirt with their sign embroidered on it in teal as well. Red—bright, candy-red, anyway—was considered to be a mark of the legislacerators, but Latula figured it was okay because of the red glasses and the fact that Terezi was Latula's younger sister.

Terezi absolutely refused to budge on the comfortable shoes she wore, though, and Latula decided that would be an acceptable sacrifice.

* * *

By the time they arrived (they deigned to leave Pyralspite at home since she was fairly sizable for a lusus and would take up a lot of room), the amphitheater where the ceremony would take place was nearly filled—and there, in the middle of the cluster of people, surrounded by a ring of Defenders, was The Princess and The Young Highblood. The two highbloods were arm in arm, and Latula could understand why they would want to present a united front. Their sisters—The Condesce and The Grand Highblood—were the ruling team, but it was clear that The Princess wanted it known that she and The Soporite had reached some sort of agreement as well.

Or maybe it was more than that. The Princess was smiling like Her Imperious Condescension, but the feel was different. It seemed more genuine, like she was honestly pleased to be there. She chatted comfortably with people in the crowd from just beyond the circle of Defenders, as close to the edge as possible, and even The Young Highblood seemed... calm. He certainly didn't look sane—there was a wild look in his eye that Latula suspected came from some combination of the near-royalty of his blood and his sopor pies—but his posture bespoke a quiet in his bearing that was damn near pacified. Perhaps The Princess and The Young Highblood had struck up some sort of moirallegiance? It would be in keeping with their older sisters—the favored rumor was that The Condesce and The Grand Highblood were kismeses. That the younger two would have a romantic attachment as well seemed only natural.

"Come on," Terezi whined, tugging at Latula's wrist. She could hear the crowd, Latula was certain. "The highbloods are here." She grinned. "I can smell them," she added at a whisper to avoid drawing attention to herself. "There's a distinctly fruity smell to the air above the lowblood rust and midblood breeze."

Latula chuckled in spite of herself, rolling her eyes in a pleased sort of exasperation. Terezi had a habit of classifying blood smells—the dark red blood of the peasantry was her favorite. She claimed that it almost smelled royal, but there was a metallic tang to it that affirmed just how low it really was. "Yes, they're here. I was hoping to introduce us to them before the ceremony, but it looks like we'll have to wait," she added. She chewed on her lip and glanced around. The crowd was swelling by the minute—even people who couldn't possibly be here for the legislacerator graduation had arrived to see The Princess. Latula couldn't bring herself to think that anyone was here for The Soporite.

This might be the only chance most of these people had to see The Princess at all—the lowbloods' lives were much shorter than the upper castes, and some of them probably wouldn't live to see The Princess ascend to the throne. Some rulers saw five or six generations of lowbloods die before they, too, succumbed to death. So it wasn't surprising that the lowbloods would do anything for a glimpse of the next fuchsia blood in line.

Latula had another reason for wanting to meet The Princess, though, especially after she saw how approachable The Princess appeared. Even though it would be dangerous work, she wanted to be assigned to direct service for The Grand Highblood. It was true that The Grand Highblood was insane, and it was also true that the service would most likely end her life much sooner than it would end otherwise, but it was a prestigious assignment, one that would nearly guarantee Terezi would be accepted to become a legislacerator herself—provided she stayed alive long enough to apply. Talent was passed on through the blood, and if Latula was as gifted a legislacerator as she seemed, then Terezi would be just as good, or maybe even better.

Terezi scoffed. "Not likely. Let's go!"

"Wait—" Before Latula could protest further, Terezi was off, her shorter-than average stature helping her bob through the crowds. She must have been able to smell her way through, because she didn't stumble or smack into anyone once, and it was all Latula could do to keep up, hoping she wasn't disgracing herself by chasing after her sister.

By the time she caught up, Terezi was mere feet from the highbloods, her back to them with one row of people between them and The Princess. "We're here," she announced with a grin.

"Don't do that again!" Latula snapped in an undertone. "We could have gotten in trouble!"

"I didn't hear anyone complaining. We kept our heads down and kept moving—at least _I_ did—so I don't think anyone else noticed."

Latula wanted to throttle her, but she had to admit that Terezi was right. No one seemed upset, and they'd actually accomplished the goal of making it to the highbloods. Now the next step was hers.

She gently pushed past the one person who stood between her and The Princess and said, dropping to a deep bow, "Princess, it is an honor to meet you."

"The honor is all mine, I'm _shore_. No need to _bow_ , either. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Latula straightened up, relieved to see The Princess still smiling like all she wanted in the world was to talk to her. "For the next few minutes, I'm Neophyte Redglare, but very shortly, I'll be Judicate Redglare, Princess."

"I _thought_ there was a reason you were dressed like that! It seems this event is for you, then. My congratulations."

"Thank you very much, Princess. And allow me to introduce you to my sister," she added, reaching behind her and pulling Terezi forward. "She doesn't have a title yet, but she's hoping to follow me as a legislacerator."

"What a _fin_ goal! How old are you, fish?" The Princess asked, addressing Terezi now.

"Six and a half. Princess," she added after Latula subtly elbowed her in the side.

"So young! But clearly, very driven. I saw how you wove through the mob just to get here," The Princess added with a laugh.

Latula felt herself blushing teal. "You saw that?"

"Oh, yes, very impressive. I think the legislacerators would be only gifted to have you among their ranks, young one. When the next batch of students is selected, I'll be sure you're on the list. Sister to Judicate Redglare," The Princess said. She seemed to be trying to remember that information, and Latula was stunned. That was so easy—getting Terezi into the legislacerators would be a snap with The Princess's endorsement. "What name would you pick?"

"I like Redglare," Terezi said. "I think I would keep it. There could be two Redglares at once, right?"

"There very well could. In fact, I would love to see that," The Princess said.

Latula was touched. She hadn't even thought to ask Terezi what she might call herself, and knowing that Terezi planned to style herself after Latula was more than she dreamed. She fought the urge to embrace Terezi right then and there, reminding herself that decorum must be preserved. Instead, she bowed again. "Many thanks to you, Princess. I can't express my gratitude."

"It will be thanks enough to see your sister at the top of her class," The Princess said. "But with you to guide her, I have no doubt that she will flourish."

Momentarily, a horn sounded, and the crowd began to find their way to their seats. Turning to Terezi, Latula said, "I'll help you find a place to sit and then stay there until after the ceremony. I'll come get you."

"Okay." She turned to The Princess, bowed, and said, "It was a great honor to meet you!"

"And an honor to meet you as well," The Princess replied, half-bowing.

Latula bowed again and quickly led Terezi away.

"The Young Highblood smelled... tainted," the younger Pyrope said once they were out of earshot.

"They don't call him The Soporite for nothing," Latula mumbled. "That was probably the sopor pies he eats."

"He didn't say anything, either."

"And be grateful for that. Nothing worthwhile ever comes out of that one's mouth." She gently pushed Terezi into a seat off to the side but near the front. "Stay right here. I'll be back."

"Good luck!" Terezi called after her.

It wasn't until after the ceremony, when she and Terezi were on their way back to their hive, that Latula realized she hadn't gotten to ask for the assignment to The Grand Highblood's service, and by then it was too late.


	8. THE DISCIPLE I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's not The Disciple yet, but she will be. For ease of reference and to keep in line with the rest of the titles, I'm calling her The Disciple now.

_**The Disciple** _

It never occurred to Nepeta Leijon that her lusus Pounce de Leon and her brother Meulon would be concealing themselves separately, but after she tackle-pounced Miss de Leon and she pawed at the five-sweep-old's face, Nepeta looked around and realized Meulon was nowhere to be found.

"Hmm," she said, straightening up and scratching behind Pounce de Leon's ear. "Where is that pesky _purr_ other of mine?" she asked as if Pounce could answer. She couldn't of course—everyone knew lusii couldn't talk—but Pounce followed behind her as she began creeping around the hive, hunting for Meulon.

Their hive was small but comfortably furnished, perfect for Nepeta and her older brother. They'd been living here for as long as she could remember, and she'd loved it. The inside was dark and cool, full of fluffy things to curl up and nap on and things to keep both them and Pounce happy. It was bliss for Nepeta, who didn't even realize for the first four sweeps that it was strange that she had a brother and not a sister (or that she was female and not male). Meulon had always cared for her, though. He was only four sweeps older than her, but he would be her lifelong companion—she could tell already.

But right now, she had to find him, and that involved her being as quiet and sneaky as possible. She wouldn't let him sneak up on her—she would hunt _him_ down.

Conceal-and-search was always highly competitive for them.

Meulon was very skilled at concealing himself—it was what made him such an excellent hunter. He was teaching her to do the same, but he had a natural ability that she lacked. Still, when it came down to it, she was better at mercilessly stalking prey, whereas he really only wanted to playfully chase after it. They had a lot to teach each other.

She drew level with the tree in the back lawnring and peered up into the branches, looking for any sign of Meulon. There was no movement, no rustling of leaves, and Nepeta decided he must not have been up there, so she scaled the tree herself to get a better vantage point. She'd climbed this tree hundreds of times in five sweeps, so she knew exactly what she'd see when she got to the top.

She would be able to leap to the roof if she was careful—which she always was—and if she could, then so could Meulon. It wouldn't surprise her to learn that he'd done just that and was watching her searching for him. "What do you think, Miss Pounce de Leon?" she asked in a whisper. Their lusus had followed her into the tree and was currently resting on a branch next to her.

Pounce gave a yawn and licked her whiskers.

"Well, _you_ aren't going to be much help," Nepeta hissed sourly, careful to keep her voice down. In case Meulon didn't know where she was, she didn't want to tip him off. A good hunter was always aware of every sound they made. Her eyes raked over the top of the hive and she thought she saw a flash of movement. All at once, she sprung, hurtling off the branch toward the roof.

"Nepeta?" came her brother's voice from the lawnring.

 _Huh?_ Before Nepeta could process that she'd been wrong, he wasn't on the roof, he was _below_ her, she collided with the side of the hive, inches from the roof. The distraction couldn't have been timed any worse—she slammed her hand into the hive at an awkward angle, and she both heard and felt something crack. She yelped in pain and scrabbled with her good hand to regain her balance, but she started slipping—she couldn't grab onto anything, she couldn't move the fingers of her left hand, even the attempt was agony, she was slipping faster, she was going to plummet and die—

There was a white blur and suddenly Pounce was leaping over her onto the roof, biting down on her sleeve. Nepeta's lusus pulled with all her might, and suddenly her feet found purchase against the wall. Between the two of them, they managed to get her firmly onto the roof and finally, she caught her breath. "Thank you," she nearly cried, reaching out for Pounce with her good arm and cradling her lusus to her chest.

"Nepeta!" Meulon yelled from below. "Are you okay?"

She looked at her useless hand, held at a strange angle from her arm. Her wrist was broken—she was sure of it. It took all of her willpower not to howl in pain. What was she going to do?"

"No," she called down weakly. "My wrist is broken."

"Hang on!"

Nepeta peered down to see Meulon beginning to climb the tree as well, easily scaling the trunk by hopping from branch to branch. He finally appeared on the top branch and leaped from it to the roof, landing and rolling easily on the top of the hive. He slid smoothly to his feet and crossed the rooftop to crouch down in front of her and examine her wrist. "Yeah," he murmured. "It's broken."

"What do we do?"

He sat down cross-legged in front of her and tore a strip away from the bottom of his shirt. "This will hurt," he said. "A lot."

She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to do, so she nodded. "If it'll help, then do it."

Meulon chewed on his lip, tilting his head to get a better look. "Okay. Hold still. Close your eyes."

Nepeta obediently closed her eyes and kept them closed as Meulon took hold of her left arm. For a few moments, he gently held her arm and rubbed her hand soothingly. "It'll be okay," he said. "You're going to be just _purr_ fect."

Nepeta let out a giggle a split second before his grip on her hand tightened suddenly and he yanked with all his strength. Her laugh turned into a scream and she covered her mouth with her other hand, tears of pain starting to stream down her face. After the first, initial stab of agony, the pain diminished slightly and Meulon began wrapping up her wrist with the strip of fabric.

"You can open your eyes now," he said.

She opened her eyes, gazing in equal parts quiet shock and detachment at the few drops of olive-green blood that had welled up through her skin. "When will it heal?"

Meulon looked up at her for a moment. "Soon. Just... no more jumping around like that. At least until you're all better," he added at the horrified look on her face.

"Okay," she said sadly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't realize... that was my fault."

She ruffled his hair with her free hand. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"Feeling any better?"

She still couldn't wiggle her fingers, but at least it didn't hurt as badly as it did minutes ago. "A little."

"Good." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Okay, let's go back inside."

They began to descend the ladder built into the rooftop of their hive, leading back down into the hive itself, when all of a sudden, off in the distance, there came the roar of engines, and Meulon, who was leading the way, froze in place. Nepeta, too, instinctively paused, the feeling of trepidation welling up inside her increasing as the engines grew louder. "Should we keep going?" she asked, staring off in the direction the engines were coming from.

Meulon seemed to shake himself awake mentally. "Uh, yeah. We should." He scrambled off the ladder, back onto the rooftop. "Pounce, you go down first."

Their lusus perked up at the sound of her name and bounded down the ladder with a grace few other lusii possessed. "You next," Meulon added once Pounce was safely in the hive. "I don't know who that is, but if you fall, Pounce is down there to catch you."

Nepeta glanced worriedly toward the sky, where she could see something approaching—the ship, she was sure. It was tiny, but growing larger by the second. "Okay." She scurried to the ladder and slowly started climbing down, holding her wrist out gingerly and trying to make it with one hand. She needed to hurry if Meulon was going to get down, too—she wasn't positive that whoever it was meant them harm, but it was better to be safely in the hive before it arrived.

The rumbling and roaring grew louder, and her heart began racing in panic. She stared up at Meulon, who was glancing back at the sky. He wouldn't tell her to hurry—he knew she couldn't—but she could see the look on his face, and it was frightened. He definitely needed to get down.

"Just start coming down!" she called up to him.

He looked to be about to argue, but another look over his shoulder changed his mind and he started to descend.

Nepeta clung to the sides of the ladder and continued her own descent, slowly and carefully climbing down until her feet touched the floor and she stepped back. "I'm down!"

Meulon looked down at her and scrambled faster, slamming the hatch at the top of the ladder closed. He was on the floor in about a third of the time that it took her, but he wasn't working with an injured wrist. Once he was on the ground, she sprinted down the stairs to the first level of their hive and went to the front entrance portal. She flung it open and stared as the ship finally passed overhead, rumbling through the hive and rattling everything inside. She gawked—she'd never seen the ship before, but she'd heard stories. She knew what ship she was looking at. Huge and bright red with a trident painted onto the side? It could only be the _Battleship Condescension_.

 _That's right_ , she realized. The Condesce's sister The Princess was traveling Alternia with The Young Highblood—remembering he was on that ship too sent a wave of revulsion through her. Even at five, she knew that The Young Highblood was no better than his sister.

She hated the thought that she was anything like him, but he was the only other person she knew of who had a sibling that wasn't the same gender as him. They were special cases, and Nepeta shivered. She didn't want to think about that right now, not when she had more important things to worry about.

"Is it gone?" Meulon asked worriedly, coming up behind her but not looking out the entrance portal.

"Yeah, it's leaving. It was the _Battleship Condescension_."

"The Condesce? What's she doing here?"

Nepeta shook her head. "Not The Condesce. Her sister, The Princess. And The Soporite," she added bitterly. "They're traveling Alternia—didn't you know?"

"No, I hadn't _purred_ ," Meulon joked. The corners of Nepeta's mouth twitched up in a smile.

"Yeah. She's touring the planet. Who knows why? But..." She looked up at the disappearing ship. "I have a bad feeling about it. Something bad is going to happen."

"With The Soporite involved, that doesn't surprise me," Meulon said soothingly.

Nepeta closed the entrance portal. "Let's not worry about that right _meow_. I'm hungry—aren't you?"

* * *

They ate dinner quietly, their game of conceal-and-search forgotten. The sky was lightening in the distance and Nepeta was too exhausted to say much of anything. She was more preoccupied with trying to figure out why she felt so worried, so afraid of what was to come. She knew of The Soporite's reputation, but that didn't mean The Princess was anything like him or her sister or The Grand Highblood. She might have been completely different.

But something terrible was hurtling toward them, and she wished she knew what it was so she could prepare. Even if she couldn't prevent it, just knowing what was coming would help her to know.

She stole a quick glance at her brother. _Maybe it's him_ , she thought. Maybe the awful things in her future had to do with him. She hoped not—whether he caused it or was affected by it, she hoped it wasn't the case. If she lost her brother, she'd probably be destroyed.

But no. That had to be it. Her brother would be hurt and there would be nothing she could do to stop it and it would break her. She just barely resisted the impulse to fling herself at him and hug him. The throbbing in her wrist was enough to make her think twice.

 _I'm just being paranoid. It's nothing. We'll be fine._ What could happen to them? They were lowbloods—the highest caste of the "low", but lowbloods all the same. The highbloods wouldn't have anything to do with them. Neither of them had any illegal tendencies. She had to laugh to herself. She was making a big deal out of nothing, that was all.

By the time she crawled into her recuperacoon, she had herself convinced that her panicked feelings were absolutely nothing.


	9. THE SIGNLESS I

_**The Signless** _

Four sweeps had come and gone. Porrim's worst fears had yet to be realized, and Karkat straddled the line between looking three and a half and looking four and a half. Depending on the wigglers he would sometimes play with, he could either look big or small for his age. Kanaya didn't let him go out and play much, though. She was always looking over their shoulders in case he tripped and scraped his knees or skinned his palms or cracked his head or even began crying. At the first sign of blood or tears appearing, she would sweep in and hurry him away, lest his bright-red fluids betray him.

"You must be more careful, my darling," she would murmur as he sniffled. She would bandage his wounds and hold him until he stopped crying. "Try not to cry, love. I know it hurts." She would pet the soft fluff of his hair until his breathing grew even again. "You mustn't cry, Karkat. You must be strong. Hold it inside. And then, when you come home, you can let it all out. Understand?"

And Karkat would nod, because even though he was four, he understood very well. There was something in him that wasn't right. He was a freak, a mutant, an abomination. His blood was tainted, and at all costs, he had to preserve that secret. He knew what would happen if someone found out. His whole family—him, Kanaya, Porrim—would be culled, quickly and without mercy. That thought terrified him, but he would sometimes forget when he played that he was different. He didn't _feel_ different—although he didn't know what it felt like to be them, so maybe not feeling different meant he _was_ different.

But Kanaya or Porrim was always watching, always making sure their secret was safe. They were always vigilant because he would forget, although soon enough, he learned it was better to play alone.

He was lonely that day. He was often lonely, actually—after being swept from the front lawnring by Porrim for the eighth time in as many days after tripping and smashing another body part to the point of bleeding, he'd decided to avoid the other grubs in his hive cluster, so he was especially lonely today. In pursuit of something else to do, he decided to go exploring. The fauna wouldn't know he was a mutant just to look at him—then again, no one else did, either. All the children he'd ever seen wore the color of their blood somewhere on their body, an open invitation for awe or prejudice depending on the color. Not Karkat, though. Kanaya and Porrim went to great lengths to ensure he only dressed in black and grays. Even they always wore jade somewhere, but Karkat stayed in plain black shirts.

His explorations led him far from the little village he called home to the outskirts and the nature assemblage where, as Kanaya told him often, he had been found and saved from an early culling. Even though that had been four sweeps ago, he still felt a strange pull toward the assemblage. Something was bidding him to return, and though he'd felt it his whole life, something else made him decide that today was the day he would finally find that crater.

Despite getting lost (he thought) twice, he was able to retrace the steps that Kanaya had taken according to the story to find the very crater she'd plucked him out of. That, straight up ahead, had to be it—it was in a small clearing and it definitely looked crater-like from this distance, but he heard something strange coming from inside it and saw wisps of smoke, so he stopped and waited while his confusion mounted.

He thought he recognized that sound—it must have been so long ago since he heard it last, but he knew that it was familiar. Finally, he decided that he'd never find out what it was just by standing here, so he carefully resumed his approach, doing his best not to make a sound. He peered over the lip of the crater and almost immediately slapped a hand over his mouth to contain his stunned gasp.

There was _another_ wiggler in there! There it was, just scurrying along the bottom of the crater, whining pathetically, and trying to scramble up the side. Karkat wondered how long it had been there and if the culling drones were already on their way to dispose of it. It wouldn't surprise him. He tried to decide if he had enough time to fetch Kanaya or Porrim to ask one of them for help when the wiggler let out a particularly loud shriek as it noticed his presence. It scooted as close to Karkat as it could get and tried to climb closer, but it slipped and skidded back to the floor of the crater and landed on its back, its six scuttlers waving stupidly in the air.

Karkat groaned and thunked his head on the ground. "You're an idiot, you know that?" he called down to the wiggler. It should have known it couldn't climb up the side—after all, Kanaya had struggled to do the same, although she had only one hand free at the time. There was no way a wiggler could manage it.

It didn't seem to understand what he was saying, but it continued crying.

That was when Karkat got a good look at the wiggler's carapace color. It was bright red, just like his own blood. "Crap," he muttered. Even though his sense was telling him to get out as fast as he could, he knew just the same that he couldn't leave the wiggler by itself. It was his family. For whatever reason, fate had sent it to the exact same crater where he'd been found four sweeps ago, and he couldn't just pretend it had never happened. But what could he do now? If he went back and got Kanaya or Porrim, there was no way he could be sure the grub would still be here, still alive by the time he got back.

He heard a rumble. He looked up toward the sky in the direction the sound was coming from, and even the wiggler ceased its previously-incessant caterwauling long enough to regard this new stimulus with interest. Karkat had never heard that sound before, but it filled him with a nameless dread. It felt bad, _evil_ , and he had a deep feeling that, should he stay here, things would not end well for him.

But he couldn't just leave the grub by itself. As the rumbling grew louder, he decided on a course of action and flung himself into the crater, kicking up dust as he skidded down the side. He scooped up the wiggler and tucked it under his sweater before scrambling to the side and covering himself with dirt to hide. The wiggler's tiny scuttlers dug into his skin in an effort, he assumed, to cling to him, so Karkat wrapped his arms as best he could around the bulge to cradle it. Either way, it had stopped shrieking (he hoped for a good long while) and just quivered against his chest as the roaring and rumbling increased in volume.

Karkat blinked dirt out of his eyes to watch a ship pass by overhead, all huge and red with a trident on the side. He still had no idea who it was, but he knew they would mean him nothing but harm. Him and the little grub currently attempting to burrow its way into his chest. He was just grateful that the wiggler's horns were as rounded and nub-like as his. Kanaya's and Porrim's were sharp and spiky, and one of them ended with a clawlike protrusion. "Stop it," he muttered to the wriggling bundle, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. It did stop, though, presumably because it felt his voice echoing through his chest, and it looked up through the neck hole of his sweater to regard him with curiosity.

Its blinky lookers remained fixed on him long after the noise from the ship's engines faded to nothing, and it unnerved Karkat. Even after he pulled his arms from his sleeves and shook the dirt from his hair, the wiggler didn't look away from him. "Stop it," he said again, poking at its squishy body.

It squirmed and let out a sound that could have almost been mistaken for a giggle. Karkat bit his lip to hide a small smile. "You gotta stop that. Someone could hear you." He hitched the bottom hem of his sweater higher so it acted as a kind of cradle and tied his sleeves underneath the wiggler to keep it in place before regarding the slope of the crater. He knew he looked stupid, but he planned to resume the normal wear of his sweater once they were out of this stupid hole in the stupid ground.

Slowly, he began his ascent, keeping his ears perked up for any out-of-place sounds that indicated culling drones. The last thing he wanted was to bring any of them down on them.

The wiggler whimpered as Karkat's foot slipped, and he bopped it lightly on the noggin. "Stop it, Kankri," he whispered. "You wanna get us in trouble?"

He didn't know where the name came from. He hadn't even thought it over, but as he continued his slow climb, he realized it was a good name. He liked it.

Fortunately, Kankri (he would tell Kanaya and Porrim that he'd named it, and that would be that) seemed to understand if not his words then at least the meaning behind them, or it just wanted to hear Karkat's voice, because it quieted down for the rest of the climb until Karkat pulled them over the side and out of the crater.

"Thank God," he muttered, absently rubbing Kankri's tiny body through the sweater. "I thought we'd never make it out of that stupid hole."

Kankri poked at him with one of its scuttlers, and Karkat realized he was wasting time just laying there. He untied his sleeves and fed his arms through them, stumbling to his feet and hurrying back to his hive as fast as he could, hugging Kankri tightly to his chest.

* * *

The first person he saw was Porrim as he nearly sprinted through the entrance portal, still clutching Kankri through his sweater. She raised a pierced eyebrow and stood up, looking him over curiously. "Karkat, there's something in your sweater."

Karkat nodded hurriedly and gingerly pulled back the fabric, hanging onto Kankri as best he could. "I found him," he explained quickly, while Porrim's eyes grew wide. "He was in the same crater that Kanaya said she found me in." He bit his lip. Her gaze remained fixed on Kankri. "We gotta keep him. I named him Kankri," he added defensively.

Porrim half-blinked. "Of course you did. Here." She held out her hands, and Karkat reluctantly handed him over. Even though he'd been an annoyance at first, something about the grub struck a chord with him. Maybe it was their mutual mutation that made him want to keep Kankri close, or perhaps it was spending an hour with the little grub so close to him, but Karkat immediately felt defensive of him.

But Porrim cradled him to her chest and pushed back a few locks of his fluffy hair. "Hello, Kankri," she said softly, starting to rock him. "Your big brother Karkat found you today. You're so lucky, you know. And now you get to live here with us. I'm Porrim."

Kankri's eyes drifted closed as Porrim swayed, and Karkat followed her. Kankri was his little brother. He'd been accepted into their family. He felt a surge of pride and something else, something deeper, pushing against his shoulders. _Responsibility._ He would have to take care of Kankri and make sure nothing bad ever happened to him. He hoped he was up for the challenge, because he had a feeling that Kankri wouldn't make the job easy for him.

Kanaya returned from her errands moments later and froze, taking in the whole scene. "Would someone care to explain?" she asked quietly.

"Whoever or whatever it was that sent Karkat to us saw fit to drop another grub at our doorstep," Porrim said. She dipped her arms to better show Kanaya. "Karkat found him. Named him Kankri, too."

"Oh." Kanaya reached out and stroked Kankri's hair. "We can't very well send him back, can we?"

"Of course not. I can't even fathom..." Porrim shook her head, sending waves rippling through her long hair. "No. We can still do this."

"But now this raises so many more questions. Why?"

Porrim shrugged. "All in good time, I suppose."

Kanaya nodded slowly before crouching down to Karkat's eye level. "How did you know to look for him?"

"I didn't," Karkat said. "I just wanted to see where you found me."

Kanaya's eyes widened slightly, and she glanced up at Porrim, who wore an identical stunned expression. "Is today...?"

"Four sweeps exactly," Porrim confirmed with a nod.

"That must mean something." She turned back to Karkat. "Was he in the crater itself?"

He nodded. "I had to get him out. And then there was this big ship..."

"Ship?"

"Uh-huh. It was red and it had a trident on the side."

"The Princess!" Kanaya hissed, whirling to face Porrim. "What if she saw?"

"I hid us real good, though!" Karkat protested. "I covered us up with dirt so we blended in and then I didn't move until she was gone."

Kanaya closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Well, that's good. And it's not so much The Princess I worry about as The Soporite."

Porrim gave an involuntary shudder, squeezing Kankri closer. He looked to be drifting off to sleep.

"No one saw us," Karkat said.

"Good. Very good." Kanaya opened her eyes, smiled, and kissed his forehead. "You did very well today. I'm proud of you."

Karkat beamed.


	10. BLUEGLOW I

_**Blueglow** _

They were genetic anomalies—there was no getting around that.

Sollux vaguely remembered being squashed, unable to move. That was his first memory—how close in everything was. Some rigid, curved surface against his sides and back, and something with more give pressing into his front. It wasn't so bad at first, but then he realized everything around him was shrinking—all except that squishy lump in front of him, which had stayed the same. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and he began poking at the wall beside him.

The lump had gotten the same idea at the same time, because it, too, began poking at another wall.

He didn't know how much time had passed to no avail—he had to get free—he was trapped—everything was too close—he could barely move—but the next thing he knew, whatever it was that had been containing him and the lump exploded in a flash of red and blue light.

Suddenly, he could move. He was on his back looking up at darkness, but he was free— _free_! A laugh bubbled out of him.

Out of the darkness, something scurried closer to him. It was the lump, the thing that had been with him, and he was immediately on alert, tensing up, and red and blue energy began crackling along his front pair of scuttlers. He didn't know what the thing was, but it—

It bumped into him before he could push it away, and it bounced off and rolled, cackling madly. He eased closer to it, curiosity getting the better of him, and the light traveling across his scuttlers revealed a tuft of black fluff, three pairs of scuttlers waving uselessly in the air—

It rolled off its back and pounced again, landing atop him with an excited squeak. Once he could see again, he registered a face grinning down at him, letting out a series of chirps and squeaks. Its nibblers were tiny, pointy, sharp, and its blinky lookers... one was blue, one was red. It looked to be really excited about something, and a moment later, in a haze of red and blue light, it began floating and zipping around, as if in celebration of its newfound freedom.

_Come on! It's fun!_

He _definitely_ didn't think that. But the wiggler floated lower, near his face, squeaking expectantly. Sollux let out a squeak of bewilderment. _Was that you?_

If he thought it was excited before, it was nothing compared to now. It zoomed around him in circles, chirping happily. _Yes! Come on, this is great! Sure beats being cramped up in that thing!_

So, trusting the mysterious voice in his head, he summoned up that red and blue energy and began floating.

Three and a half sweeps later, Sollux was still trusting Mituna, who always seemed to have the answers.

It was Mituna who first discovered that it was an egg they hatched from—and that they'd hatched a few revolutions early, but that was to be expected. It was Mituna who learned that only one wiggler was supposed to emerge from an egg, not two. Their egg had been larger, as though it had almost split into two separate eggs, but something had gone wrong and the two of them remained in one egg together.

But it was Sollux who realized that the two of them had been one being at some point. It was Sollux who deduced that, due to their mustard-yellow blood and the sign that accompanied it, they had been destined to split. There wasn't a term for brothers like them, so they coined their own: Twins.

There was, however, a term for the red and blue light that seemed to follow them everywhere, appearing whenever they thought too hard or tried to accomplish something difficult. It was a manifestation of their psionic abilities, the limits of which they continually tested. It was their combined psionic powers that blasted apart their egg and freed them—a good thing, too, since if it hadn't, there was so little room in it that they might have died before they hatched. As a result, both Sollux and Mituna were on the small side for being three and a half sweeps old, something that would have worked against them during the trials if they hadn't had their psionic abilities to more than compensate. It was their psionic powers that let them fly during their first few moments of post-hatched life.

They still weren't quite sure how they could communicate with each other telepathically, but they both suspected their psionic powers had something to do with that, too.

Very few trolls in recorded history had powers like theirs. Sollux knew from the hours he spent on Skaianet, combing through what archives were available. He supposed it was possible that anyone who did have powers like theirs had kept it quiet, but he didn't know how anyone with these kinds of abilities (at least to their level—they were "high-level" psionics) could keep it hidden for long.

Mituna was always trying to get him to come outside with him, out of the shelter of their communal hive stem and into the open air to play with their moron of a lusus, this great beast called a bicyclops (it had two heads and each head had one eye, one red and one blue), but it seldom worked. Sollux was far more interested in figuring out how they could even _be_ in the first place. Mostly, it seemed nearly impossible that the two of them were genetically identical when they behaved so differently.

Still, whenever someone hurt Mituna, he felt it, too, and he would rush to Mituna's side to either comfort him or kick whoever had hurt him in the bone bulge. Mituna did the same for him; despite their differences, there were times when they felt like one being again. It was only natural that they assumed an immediate and automatic moirallegiance. Even now, after three and a half sweeps had passed, they missed the other's presence while they slept and it wasn't uncommon for them to wake up in the same recuperacoon, tangled together in much the same way as they'd been while still in their egg with Mituna's head against Sollux's stomach.

It was comforting and made it easier for both of them to sleep.

Today was one of those days where Mituna wasn't leaving him alone. He didn't actually annoy Sollux—he just acted like it since that was what they always did—but somehow, the stupid shit that came out of Mituna's mouth was impressive.

"We can play conceal-and-search with the bicyclops!" he was saying this time, nudging his brother's shoulder.

Sollux closed his eyes and pushed up his glasses, one lens tinted red and the other tinted blue, to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pushed his chair slightly away from the working platform that supported his husktop. "You know that's an unbelievably stupid idea," he said, his lisp identical to his twin's. "For one thing, we keep it chained to the roof for a reason. It's so fucking stupid it might forget it's supposed to be taking care of us and try to eat one of us."

"It wouldn't do that."

Okay, so it probably wouldn't, but Sollux really had no intention of testing that theory. Still, the bicyclops was inescapably an idiot. Sollux had to harvest the mind-honey from the bees that powered his husktop to keep it from being such an idiot all the time.

When Sollux didn't answer and instead went back to the husktop, Mituna began rocking back and forth in his chair, presumably to come up with some way to cajole Sollux into leaving the hive. In this respect, the two of them were so different that Sollux wondered if maybe they didn't have every last gene in common. Genetically speaking, there had to be something between them that was different, after all. He knew better than to try to tune out Mituna in favor of the soothing buzz of the bees zipping through the mainframe, though. Mituna would do that annoying thing where he would sting the back of his neck with a little jolt of psionics—not enough to cause damage, but enough to get his attention and be really irritating—and them immediately start bombarding his head with his psychically-transmitted thoughts.

It was due to that particular aspect of their powers that neither of them had spoken until they were two and a half. If they could communicate with each other well enough without actually speaking, what was the point? It wasn't until they started to socialize with the other kids in their communal hive stem that they finally started talking.

"Well... I heard that The Condesce's ship is gonna be passing by soon! Don't you want to see that?"

Actually, that _did_ interest him a bit, if only because everyone knew by now that The Princess and The Young Highblood (Sollux had heard him referred to as "The Soporite" as well, but he preferred using the title that didn't involve him lisping) were traveling around the planet. It wasn't every day the younger sister of the Alternian ruler and the younger brother of highest-blooded land-dwelling troll came by your city. For the sake of posterity, he found himself interested. Besides, he'd read stories on Skaianet (while not sure how true they were) of various insane things The Young Highblood had done when he was younger, and Sollux was morbidly curious to see him in person.

Sollux wasn't about to let Mituna win that easily, though. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, stretching his arms over his head in a deliberate yawn. "Getting excited over a few idiot highbloods doesn't sound like much fun, actually."

Mituna grinned, his teeth still as sharp as ever. He wasn't fooled. "Oh, come on! Ever since you found out about them coming this way, you've been excited to see them!" He lightly stung the tip of Sollux's nose with a jolt of energy, and Sollux grimaced and rubbed his nose petulantly. "Don't play coy now."

"Well... it's not like they're going to stop or anything," Sollux said stubbornly. "It's just the ship, really."

"So?"

" _Fine._ " Sollux pushed himself out of his chair as Mituna let out a cheer and jumped out of his. "It'll kill a few minutes, anyway."

The two of them hurried out of the communal hive stem and to the lawnring where other trolls and their lusii were gathered. They'd opted to leave the bicyclops chained to the roof—it was so big that it would probably squish people, and they were able to sneak around unnoticed without it—and joined the mob by themselves. Because of how small they were, they managed to dart right to the front of the group without incident just as there came the telltale roaring of engines from the east.

In spite of all his protests, the highbloods' approach gave Sollux chills. He eyed the approaching ship with equal amounts of awe and trepidation. It was still so far away, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger—or maybe it just seemed that way because of how small _he_ was. Without conscious thought, he grabbed Mituna's hand and held on, and automatically, Mituna's fingers curled around his.

 _It's amazing_ , he heard Mituna say in his head.

But as it got closer, it seemed to be getting lower. Sollux's heart jumped into his throat as he wondered if it was an illusion, if it only seemed to be coming lower due to the curvature of the planet or something like that, but no—it was definitely coming down.

 _It's landing!_ he screamed at Mituna. The two of them exchanged looks and backed up right into the trolls behind them, but there was nowhere to go anymore—the mob of people had solidified and the ship was heading right for them—

And then it was landing, only a few feet away from them (without crushing anyone, fortunately), and there was a door on the side opening and steps descending from it, and then two figures emerged, one behind the other.

The highbloods were coming out.

The first one carried a 3dent—that had to be The Princess. The second had to be The Young Highblood, although the only thing to mark him as such was his horns. Instinctively, everyone dropped to one knee, Sollux and Mituna included. And then it suddenly occurred to Sollux that the two of them were right there in the open, right in the front, and they were genetic freaks and The Princess would see and they could be culled on the spot— _We have to get out of here!_

_What are you talking about?_

Sollux didn't have time to explain his logic in words, so he just beamed over as much information as he could all at once. They didn't do that often—only when it was an emergency, like now—because it gave both of them headaches.

Mituna's face screwed up in an expression of agony and he rubbed his forehead, exhaling sharply in pain. _It's too late to run. If she sees us, she sees us. We can deal with culling drones when they come._

Sollux was glad Mituna was so confident, but he definitely wasn't, and now The Princess and The Young Highblood were heading right for their swell of people. There was nowhere to go anymore, not without drawing massive amounts of attention to themselves. The only reason they'd survived this long was because they kept a low profile—chaining their lusus to the roof notwithstanding.

"Rise, my people," The Princess said, and suddenly, Sollux wasn't afraid anymore. He couldn't explain why, but he immediately trusted her. "It is my honor to be here with you."

Unsure of themselves, the crowd slowly stood up, and The Princess began speaking to trolls here and there, moving closer to where Sollux and Mituna stood. The Young Highblood followed two steps behind her, not saying anything.

 _She's coming really close_ , Sollux thought, his eyes locked on her.

_She won't hurt us._

Sollux knew he should have been worried, but he couldn't summon up fear. He didn't know what it was about her, but he wasn't afraid. Skaianet was full by now of similar stories, of The Princess making unscheduled stops in towns they passed just to interact with the "common people," but he hadn't believed until right now that she would actually stop here.

And then she was in front of them, surprise registering on her face for a moment before she crouched down to their level. " _Whale_ , hello there! Who are you?" Even The Young Highblood no longer had a glazed look in his eye—he was looking at them with interest as well.

"Redshine," Mituna said.

"Blueglow," Sollux added. The other wigglers they sometimes played with had given them titles, and since they had no others, they latched onto what they had. Their powers hadn't escaped their playmates' notice.

The Princess smiled, looking from one of them to the other. "I can't tell, so maybe you can _kelp_ me out. I'm assuming you're brothers, but which one of you is older?"

They looked at each other. They had never thought about it before, but it seemed to Sollux that neither of them was older than the other. They had both burst from their egg at the same moment. There was no "older" or "younger" with them.

"Neither," Mituna said.

"What do you mean, Redshine?"

He grinned and flushed with pride at her use of his title. "We're twins," he explained. "We hatched out of our egg at the same time."

"'Egg'? Just one?"

Mituna nodded.

"Wow!" The Princess laughed. "That is incredible! _Whale_ , I have no doubt that the two of you, coming from such an extraordinary be _fin_ ning, have an extraordinary life ahead of you." She twisted around to push her 3dent into The Young Highblood's hands and turned back to face them. She put one hand against Mituna's cheek and the other against Sollux's. "I expect great things from both of you," she said as she looked from one of them to the other, and then, taking everyone by surprise, she planted a kiss on the tops of their heads.

Sollux finally smiled and blushed a little as she stood up, straightened her skirt, took back her 3dent from The Young Highblood, and continued down the line. As she left, he and Mituna heard her say to him, "They're so _glubbing_ cute!"

Mituna let out a giggle.


	11. THE SUMMONER I

_**The Summoner** _

"Come on, Tav! You can do it!"

The wiggler blinked at Rufioh, his rust-colored lookers huge and confused. Unsure of himself, he raised one scuttler, set it down, and raised another.

Rufioh, lying on his stomach in the dirt with his arms outstretched, put his face to the ground to hide his laughter. "So close, Tavros. So close." Most wigglers were able to scurry along pretty well by now—some emerged from the trials knowing how—but for some reason, his brother Tavros's back scuttlers didn't work so well. Rufioh thought it was a miracle Tavros had made it through the trials in the first place and made it past the culling drones. He didn't know what his brother had gone through, but he hoped Tavros would be okay. He was nearing a sweep and a half now, and it wouldn't be long before he molted.

Tavros grunted and lifted his front left and middle right scuttler. He moved them an inch or two ahead and dragged himself along for a moment before giving up, dropping back to the ground with a dejected sigh.

"Aw, don't be sad. It's just not your day." Rufioh pulled himself to a sitting position and scooped Tavros into his arms. "You'll get it." He petted Tavros's fluffy hair, and the wiggler must have been slightly reassured by it because he nestled into Rufioh's chest. Rufioh laughed, deftly dodging Tavros's horns, which were, like his, rather ungainly and decidedly too big overall.

Once he figured Tavros had received sufficient snuggles for the moment, he carefully shifted the grub into a carrier he'd fashioned out of several huge leaves and a few flexible sticks. It was easier to transport him this way, and maybe Rufioh was coddling him by not making him scurry around like every other wiggler in his hatching group, but he didn't care. Tavros wasn't going to be a wiggler forever, after all, and though Rufioh was only four and a half, he wanted to be sure his brother didn't grow up too fast.

When he got back to their hive, it was eerily quiet inside. Rufioh peered around the front block, raising an eyebrow before grinning and letting out a loud crowing like a male cluckbeast. Suddenly, the block was alive with movement as nearly a dozen other children, his age and younger, emerged from hiding spots.

"RUFIOH!" they yelled happily, and he threw up his arms to receive them.

"Hey, guys! What's happening?" he asked, and a wave of chatter broke over them.

"Yalena ate a bug!"

"I can count to a thousand now! Want to see?"

"Iveria an' me are gonna go explorin' tomorrow!"

"Did Tavros walk?"

Laughing, Rufioh settled onto the floor as the others did the same. It was always a little chaotic when he came back, but he enjoyed it. He pulled Tavros out of his carrier and placed the grub in his lap. "Bangarang, Yalena, I hope that bug tasted good. I'll definitely listen to you count to a thousand, Pherro. Start now!"

"One, two, three..."

"Bosmic, where are you and Iveria going to explore to?"

"Seven, eight, nine..."

"We haven't decided yet," Iveria said before Bosmic could answer.

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen..."

"Tavros isn't walking yet. He's trying, but his scuttlers—" Rufioh wiggled them for emphasis, drawing a curious look from the grub "—don't seem to want to work right. He'll get it, though. It's just taking a little longer than I thought."

"Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine..."

Clorin ran her fingers through Tavros's hair, giving him a calculating look. "What happens if he doesn't start walkin', though?" she asked. She, unlike the other children there, had blood that was nearly blue. The rest of them were all pretty low on the hemospectrum and beneath notice to most highbloods, but she was a midblood, and her disappearance from her hive cluster had been noticed. Rufioh never asked, nor had she ever said, why she left, but he suspected it was something bad to drive her this far from home.

Rufioh never asked about the children who lived with him and Tavros. It didn't matter to him what had brought them here—though he suspected most were orphans. It was the fate of all orphaned children to be culled, and Rufioh couldn't abide by that. He didn't know how they kept finding him, but he preferred it to the alternative. He kept them safe, he protected them from harm, and due to his incredibly low caste, he was able to come and go in the town as he pleased, ignored by the adults.

Clorin had a special bond with Tavros, though. It was she who had found Tavros in the first place and brought him back to the hive. Rufioh had known immediately that Tavros was _his_ brother—they had the same horns, the same blood color. He just knew. And so, with the help of their lusus Tinkerbull, they'd all banded together to raise another of the Lost Kids.

That was what they called themselves, fashioning themselves after the tales of Pupa Pan.

"He'll walk," Rufioh said quietly. "Of course he'll walk." He knew what would happen if Tavros _didn't_ walk even after he molted, though. They all knew.

If the culling drones found him, he would be culled on the spot. Weak trolls, trolls who couldn't even walk, couldn't be allowed to reproduce and taint the rest of the race.

Technically, Rufioh knew that if culling drones ever found this place, found them, they would all be culled, quickly and with extreme prejudice. The Lost Kids would be culled for being orphans (orphans were considered weak as well), and Rufioh would be culled for harboring them. He tried not to think about it most days, though, since he felt in his heart that he was doing the right thing. He couldn't think of anything more terrifying than facing down a culling drone and realizing you were about to die.

Once they all turned eight, they would be okay—after that, they wouldn't legally need a lusus, and while many trolls had grown attached to their lusii by the time they turned eight and kept them as companions, others gladly left their lusii and never saw them again. They only had to wait a few sweeps, and they'd be fine.

But a few sweeps was a long time, and they all had to be careful in the meantime.

* * *

Once they'd all eaten and settled in to sleep for the night on the mats and in the suspended relaxation devices strung up from the ceiling, Rufioh found he was the only one awake. Even Tavros was asleep, breathing softly against Rufioh's rising and falling chest.

"I won't let them hurt you," he whispered into the exaggerated darkness of the sleeping block, rubbing Tavros's back. "Even if you grow up and you can't walk. They'll never get you. I promise." He sniffled quietly and wiped away his rust-colored tears with the back of his hand.

Sleep time was the only time he let himself cry. He had to be strong for everyone while they were awake. If he wasn't strong, they would die.

* * *

The next day was easier. He followed Bosmic and Iveria on their explorations with Tavros in the carrier, laughing as he bounced along. They found a place to stop and rest near the hive cluster they lived by, and Rufioh let Tavros out of the carrier to practice walking with Bosmic. Iveria shimmied up into a tree and promptly fell asleep, but Rufioh wasn't going to disturb her. The Lost Kids did what they want, when they wanted. They were fine right where they were.

He laid back on the grass, closing his eyes and putting his hands underneath his head. He heard Bosmic gently coaching Tavros again through the steps of scuttling, but based on Bosmic's frustrated sighing, he didn't meet with much success. Besides, Rufioh was pretty sure Bos would try to get his attention if Tavros _had_ started walking.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered waking up to a loud roaring. Before he was even fully conscious, he was automatically jumping to his feet and hurrying into a tree as fast as he could, adrenaline pumping through his veins and every instinct screaming _MOVE MOVE MOVE_. He looked to his left and saw Iveria fully awake, clinging to her branch and staring in horror at the huge red ship that was descending extremely close to where they'd just been. At least she was safe, and there was Bosmic to his right, hiding his face and trembling as he hung onto his branch.

Rufioh breathed a sigh of relief. They were all safe.

There came a tiny, high-pitched cry, and all the relief flooded out of Rufioh's body. _Tavros!_ He stared down at the ground and spotted him, a tiny, rust-colored splotch in a sea of grass. It was too late for Rufioh to run down and catch him, though—the ship was landing and a door was opening and Tavros looked like an abandoned wiggler in the middle of the nature assemblage and he would be culled for sure. He silently prayed that Tavros would stop crying, that the two people coming out of the ship wouldn't notice him, that his brother would be spared, but no, they were heading right for him.

After a moment, he realized that Tavros _had_ stopped crying, and in fact was watching quietly as the two adults approached him. They were talking, and as Rufioh looked closer, he saw that one of them carried a 3dent and appeared to be bedecked in fuchsia and gold jewelry, and the other wore a deep blue-violet.

"That's The Princess!" Iveria whispered to his left. "And The Young Highblood!"

Oh, God, they were screwed for sure. There wouldn't even be a need to call the culling drones—The Princess could just stab Tavros with her 3dent and be done with it.

 _Please, no_ , he begged silently, _get away from him! Leave him alone!_

They were only a few paces from Tavros now, and they hadn't appeared to notice him, but they were heading right for him. This might be even worse—they could step on him before they realized he was there. And then The Young Highblood threw out his arm, his eyes falling to the ground, and Rufioh heard him say, "Wait."

"What— _oh_." The Princess crouched down and set her 3dent on the grass, looking right at Tavros. "It's a grub," she said, half in awe and half in confusion. She reached out to touch him or grab him, Rufioh couldn't be sure which, but Tavros suddenly squeaked and scooted toward The Young Highblood.

The indigo-blooded heir dropped to his knees next to The Princess, holding out his hands. To Rufioh's utter astonishment, Tavros continued walking—he was actually walking now, all by himself—right into The Young Highblood's hands.

"Hey, little motherfucker," The Young Highblood said, but his tone didn't seem harsh. He almost sounded _affectionate_. "Who are you?"

Tavros squeaked as if in response, but The Princess lightly bopped the other highblood on the head. "Don't curse around it," she said gently, smiling. "It's just a wiggler. It shouldn't be exposed to such vulgarity."

Rufioh white-knuckled the branch, unsure of anything anymore. The highbloods hadn't made a move to hurt Tavros, hadn't even mentioned it. They seemed _nice_ , even, like they didn't mean to harm him at all. True, Tavros had actually walked under his own power (that was a relief by itself), but he still looked like an abandoned grub.

"Where's your mo—your lusus?" The Young Highblood asked.

"That's _betta_ ," The Princess said, ruffling The Young Highblood's hair. "But a good question. A wiggler as adora _bubble_ as you has to have a lusus worried sick about you, little one."

An idea formed in Rufioh's mind, and he held out his hands, indicating for Iveria and Bosmic to stay where they were. He began to climb down the tree as quickly as he could.

"What if it doesn't have a lusus?" The Young Highblood wondered, but by that time, Rufioh had reached the ground and was dashing toward them.

"He has a lusus!" he protested, stopping in front of the highbloods.

They looked up at him and all of a sudden, he felt incredibly small. They were both adults, after all, and even crouching down, they exuded an air of such power that he suddenly remembered that nearly the entire hemospectrum separated him from The Princess—and The Young Highblood, the highest-blooded land-dweller on the planet, was right next to her, holding his brother.

"I mean..." he added quietly, unsure of what he meant to add.

"Are you his brother?" The Princess asked, her head tilting subtly to one side.

"Yes, Your Highness," he said as respectfully as he could.

"But you just left him here."

"We—I was scared," he said quickly. "I was taking a nap and I woke up and I just ran."

To his relief, though, The Princess suddenly smiled at him. "I suppose the _Battleship Condescension_ can be intimidating, especially for one as small as you. Who are you?"

"Rufioh," he said automatically. "And that's Tavros." He glanced at his brother for a moment, who had somehow wiggled out of The Young Highblood's hands and into the tangled nest of his hair, squeaking happily. _I guess Tavros likes him._ It surprised him a bit—Tavros wasn't shy by any stretch of the imagination, but he didn't take to anyone that fast. It had taken him hours to warm up to even Rufioh, yet in a matter of seconds, he was climbing all over The Young Highblood. It was odd.

The Princess seemed intrigued with the way the wiggler had made himself comfortable with The Young Highblood, too. "He's very _frond_ ly," she said with a smile.

He didn't bother to contradict her. "Yes."

"Alright, Tavros, enough fooling around," The Princess said fondly. She reached into The Young Highblood's hair and carefully extracted the grub. "Time to go back to your brother. Maybe you and The Young Highblood can play later," she added.

Tavros chirped unhappily as she placed him back in Rufioh's arms. He tried to wiggle out, and it was all Rufioh could do to keep from dropping him. He'd have to put him in the carrier as soon as he was out of sight of the highbloods. "Bangarang," Rufioh said uneasily as they climbed back to her feet and she picked up her 3dent again.

"You take care of him now," The Princess said. "Come on," she added to The Young Highblood, who finally pulled his gaze from Tavros and let himself be led toward the hive cluster.

Rufioh waited until they were out of sight before motioning to Iveria and Bosmic to come down. "That's enough excitement for one day, I think. Let's go back."

Neither of them had any intentions of arguing.


	12. THE HANDMAID I

_**The Handmaid** _

Time-travel really took it out of a person.

It was complicated, brain-numbing work to set up stable time loops. At any one point in Alternian history, there could be as many as six of her running around, although she tried to keep that number significantly lower since encountering herself would create a paradox, offshoot timeline and they'd scrapped so many of those by this point that she'd really rather avoid it altogether. She wanted to keep the "Alpha" timeline running as smoothly as possible, which meant more headache now but less work in the long run.

They were always so concerned with the long run.

The wiggler in her arms let out a pathetic sob. "Never pegged you for a whiny grub," she grumbled, as though Karkat could understand her. "Then again, you were always loud." She looked around until she located the smoking crater and the massive meteor inside of it and gingerly set wiggler-Karkat in the grass. With a wave of her arms, the meteor vanished, leaving the crater empty, and she picked Karkat back up.

Even though she knew what would happen, knew that Kanaya was already on her way to survey the site and find Karkat—that's what was _supposed_ to happen, after all—she felt bad about leaving a defenseless grub in the middle of a smoking crater for hours. All the beasts had been frightened away by the impact, the culling drones were nowhere nearby, and Kanaya was the only other person awake, but it still bothered her.

But she had her orders.

"I suppose there's worse in your future than lying in the dirt until a caretaker arrives," she murmured. It hadn't been this hard to leave Kankri in this same crater four sweeps in the future, but she also hadn't known Kankri very well—Karkat had been her teammate, after all, not Kankri. Neither of the Vantases had an easy life ahead of him, though. She knew what would happen to them and wondered which was worse.

 _It's for the greater good_ , she reminded herself, and vanished into the night.

"Welcome back, Handmaid."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I need a minute. My head is throbbing."

"Oh, absolutely. We have all the time in the cosmos. More, even." Doc Scratch gave a polite nod, and while he had absolutely no facial features to speak of, she assumed he meant to be reassuring.

"How many more are there?" she asked, even though she knew full well how many grubs remained for her to plant.

Karkat and Kankri weren't the only two wigglers she'd had to siphon out of their original timelines. There were twenty-two altogether, although that wasn't a fully accurate. Technically speaking, there had been twelve grubs and nine eggs for her to plant. She'd gotten the eggs out of the way first—those had been easier. All she'd had to do was locate the eggs in their original timelines (easy to pick out, since each egg was tinged with the blood color of the grub—or grubs, in the Captors' case—inside) and reassign them. Both of the Peixeses, Cronus, Gamzee, Equius, Aranea, Kanaya, Nepeta, the Captors—a simple move and no one was any the wiser. Well, maybe not the Captors. She missed her moirail terribly, and sending him off like that had felt cold to her. After she'd placed their egg, she kissed the top of it gently and murmured, "Please be safe," even though she knew what would happen to Sollux—to both of them.

The grubs on the other hand...

The Vantases were done. Wiggler-Eridan bobbed in a cryogenic sleep next to female-wiggler-Kurloz and male-wiggler-Meulin (she had no idea how they gender-swap had happened or why it had been contained to just the two of them, but Doc Scratch never mentioned it, so neither did she), and Porrim hovered next to them. Vriska, Horuss, the Pyropes, and the Nitrams had also been moved. She had no qualms about leaving Vriska on the damn beach—she half-hoped some sea-beast would rise up and swallow her, actually—but Aranea had found her in time and took her in.

And then there was Damara.

Aradia looked up at the floating form of her dancestor—her _sister_ (she still hadn't gotten used to that term)-next to the four remaining grubs. She wasn't a wiggler—she was about seven, and the placronym above her head read _The Explorer_. Damara was leverage, pure and simple. Doc Scratch had personally kidnapped Damara from her original timeline and brought her here to make Aradia cooperate. Just once, she'd asked Doc Scratch why, if he'd been able to alter the timeline already, he needed _her_ to do his dirty work.

The answer had been so terrifying that she never brought it up again.

"Pick your poison," Doc Scratch said, his version of a joke, as he gestured to the grubs.

Eridan, Kurlas, Porrim, or Meulon? She only had one left from her original team, and while she wasn't particularly fond of Eridan, she wanted to keep that last bit of familiarity around for just awhile longer. On a whim, she scooped up Kurlas, and, with a nod from Doc Scratch, went about setting up another set of time loops.

There was the current Grand Highblood off in the distance with his lusus, their massive hive off to her right. Aradia set Kurlas down and stepped back. She knew what would happen in nine sweeps' time—Kurlas would kill him, take his throne, and become the new Grand Highblood. The current one was nearing ninety sweeps old already; he'd reigned for awhile. He, of course, wouldn't know how dangerous his little heiress was until it was too late.

In a flash, it was twenty-one and a half sweeps later, and there was The Condesce's ship on the lawnring of the Highbloods' hive. She could almost hear the conversation going on between Kurlas and Meenah even though it was taking place inside the hive. She slipped carefully through time and space, reappearing in Kurlas's respiteblock moments before The Grand Highblood swept in, looking irritated.

All of a sudden, the highblood froze. "Who the motherfuck are you?" she snapped, going for the clubs she had stashed against the wall, irritation quickly replaced by blind fury.

"Kurlas Makara, please listen to me," Aradia said calmly, holding out a hand. The clubs flew out of The Grand Highblood's hands and sailed harmlessly over Aradia's head, firmly under The Handmaid's control.

At the sound of her full name, Kurlas paused.

This was the first time The Grand Highblood had ever seen her, but it was the fourth time Aradia had spoken to her, instructing her on what to do. By now, she was comfortable enough to summon a chair from across the block and sit down, crossing her arms, while Kurlas just looked at her, dumbfounded. "I am The Handmaid," Aradia said after a moment. "You don't know me yet, but you will, and I will be your most trusted adviser. Wait," she added as Kurlas opened her mouth to speak. "I'm not finished. You are about to ask me who I am, and that's a tedious, repetitive question because I just told you. However, what you mean to ask is what my intentions are, so let me enlighten you. My employer has a vested interest in the continuation of our race. He is not of this planet, but that is of little consequence. He fears that, as the race is now, it is on its way to destruction. From what I've seen, I'm inclined to agree. However, I am particularly capable of averting that fate. That's where you come in.

"You do wish to see our people conquer the cosmos, do you not?"

Aradia had to hand it to her—Kurlas was smarter than she looked. She was no Gamzee, that was for sure. She gave Aradia a penetrating look as she weighed her words.

"Of course I motherfucking do."

"As I thought you would. I have a series of instructions that I have been assigned to pass down to you. They will be delivered in due time, as you have need to know of them. For now, I have but one simple task for you: Convince Her Imperious Condescension to allow The Princess to tour the planet."

The Grand Highblood let out a snort of laughter. "Good motherfucking luck—that water-bitch has it all up in her motherfucking think pan that it's a bad motherfucking idea."

Aradia tilted her head to the side. "But it's not. The Condesce is wrong—although if you phrase it like that, I'm sure you'll get nowhere. Ponder this, though. Gamzee will be of age soon."

"How do you know—"

"I know everything about you. All of you. Your names, your titles, your pasts, presents, futures." Aradia was on her feet now, stalking closer to the highblood. "I have followed you since you were a grub, since Meenah Peixes was a grub, and before that as well. I know what will happen if you follow my instructions and what will happen if you don't, and I promise you, things will be far worse for you if you do not heed me." She was shorter than The Grand Highblood, but her temper was getting the better of her and she found herself floating at Kurlas's eye level, right in her face, practically spitting to get her point across. It was the only thing these indigo-bloods understood, anyway—raw power and violence. Subtlety was lost on them.

Kurlas didn't look _afraid_ , necessarily, but she looked nearly convinced. "And what do I tell that motherfucking fuchsia-blooded nook-sniffer?"

Aradia floated back to her feet and walked back to the chair. "The truth," she said casually, over her shoulder. "That you're concerned about your brother's future fitness to rule. The Princess and The Soporite—" she threw out Gamzee's mocking title deliberately to infuriate Kurlas further. She was far easier to manipulate when she was angry. "—will have a good influence on each other. I promise that, at their return, he will be that much easier for you to control. And The Princess... Well, The Condesce believes she, too, will be an unfit ruler. Meenah plans to cull her very soon. Upon The Princess's return, she will be far better suited to becoming the Empress of Alternia, and neither of you have to scrap your heirs."

"You're sure?" Kurlas asked quietly.

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"And if I can't convince her?"

"You will. Because if you don't, the Alternian Empire will collapse. Chaos will reign. Everyone will die. From every corner of the galaxy will sound The Vast Glub, and not even Meenah Peixes will survive." Aradia neglected to mention that it would take several thousand sweeps for that to happen—that wasn't important. It was necessary to finally bend Kurlas.

"I see."

"Besides, it will get Gamzee out of your hair for a sweep and a half or so, and Meenah will be more than happy to see The Princess leave for that long if it means she'll return a better ruler."

"He'll be broken of his motherfucking habit? Eating all those sopor pies?"

"No. But it's better for you if he's not. He'll be less likely to rebel against you now. Although I would try to wean him off them a little starting now. They _are_ rotting his think-pan, after all."

Kurlas eyed her warily for a few moments. "Alright. I'll do my motherfucking best, but I don't make any motherfucking promises."

"Your best is all I ask," Aradia said lightly. "Oh, and don't mention me to anyone. My hand is to remain unseen at all times." With that, she vanished from The Grand Highblood's respiteblock.

She had no doubt that Kurlas would succeed, but she reappeared in the ingestion block several hours later and hid herself to observe anyway.

Kurlas was speaking quietly to The Condesce, who'd propped up her 2x3dent against the wall while she ate. The Condesce appeared to be listening, although there was a faint look of annoyance on her face. Aradia vaguely caught the words _our heirs_ , _benefit to_ , and _public image_. She smiled to herself. She had hoped that Kurlas would work that part out on her own—sending out The Princess and The Young Highblood to see the planet would at least give the illusion that The Condesce and The Grand Highblood cared about the people they ruled.

Aradia vanished from the highblood's hive. It wouldn't be too much longer now. Three grubs, a few more stable time loops, and Damara would be freed. They could go back to their lives.

She just hoped she had the strength to handle the fallout when it came.


	13. THE GRIMSEER

_**The Grimseer** _

John hovered at the entrance to the cave, scanning the landscape anxiously. Rose understood his concern, but there was no use fretting right now—it wouldn't solve anything. All they could do right now was sit here and _wait_ , and while she disliked it just as much as he did, there was nothing else they could do.

She, for her part, had by turns taken to knitting and psychically probing the outlying areas, and so far, all she'd found was a small village and a smoking crater. Admittedly, this was a fairly reassuring development—at least there was civilization nearby—but it didn't help them right now.

John continued hovering, although now he was hovering cross-legged about three feet above the ground. Rose wasn't even sure he was conscious of it anymore. His powers as a Hero of Breath had become so ingrained into him that everything seemed to be purely instinctual at this point.

"He's been gone awhile," John murmured for the seventh time. It wasn't an exaggeration, either—Rose was keeping count.

"So has Jade," she reminded him.

"She can take care of herself."

"So can he." John seemed to forget that Jade wasn't the only one who'd grown up with a dangerous guardian. Becquerel had been a Hell-beast, but Bro Strider wielded fucking katanas like they were kitchen knives—although she was pretty sure the Striders didn't have kitchen knives and used their katanas for everything, so that made sense.

Still, she wasn't so sure how well either Jade or Dave could take care of themselves here—they didn't know for sure where they even were in the first place. She strongly suspected through anecdotal evidence that they were on Alternia, but that just opened up a whole new set of questions. Primarily, _how_? This was why they needed their Space player back as soon as possible—to figure out what had happened.

Of course, having their Time player back would be a big help, too. As it was, there wasn't much a Light and a Breath player could do on their own.

And then there was the weird problem where they weren't actually sure how much time had actually elapsed—before he'd gone off in search of Jade, Dave had set up a localized time loop around the cave they'd taken refuge in, meaning they weren't actually sure of the passage of time. The loop was an hour long, and Rose had started marking every time the loop skipped on the cave wall, but every time it skipped, the mark would vanish. However, the loop served the dual purpose of keeping them in a bizarre stasis (they didn't get hungry, didn't have to go to the bathroom, didn't get tired, but they still felt the time passing and remembered everything) and making it easier for Dave to sense them and get back to their location once he actually found Jade. He could apparently detect localized time anomalies like the one he'd created.

So they were stuck here inside the cave, perpetually bored. They couldn't leave the physical boundaries of the time loop. Dave had explained that, if they did, the time that had elapsed would catch up with them all at once, creating some "serious sick-nasty shit. Like you don't even want to know, trust me." Rose took that to mean they would immediately collapse into an unconscious heap due to all the sleep they'd missed while at the same time voiding their bowels and then almost passing out again after they'd woken up due to their missed meals. It actually did sounds pretty "sick-nasty," so she took his word for it and stayed firmly in the cave.

It felt like several weeks had passed, anyway. The longer they waited, the more anxious Rose was about venturing even _near_ the mouth of the cave, although John was comfortable right there on the edge. She was just as tired of waiting as he was, but unlike him, she was able to exude an air of calm patience. After all, it wasn't like they were wasting any actual time just sitting here. They weren't aging.

She wished they could fall asleep, though. That was possibly the most tiresome thing about the time loop. The stasis meant also that their brainwaves stayed basically the same. Sleeping was actually impossible even if Rose were to lay down, close her eyes, and try to sleep. She'd tried, too.

She was as restless as John was. Neither of them liked this waiting, and she resisted the urge to stand up and pace. She was bored and she'd long since run out of things to do to entertain herself, and it would be God knew how long before—

A bright blur streaked through the mouth of the cave and as Rose and John both leaped to their feet (well, she leaped, and he merely stood up), Dave tumbled to the ground, bleeding heavily.

"Oh, my God! Are you alright?" Rose hurried to his side to get a better look at the damage.

Dave let out a choked cough and gingerly reached up to touch his sunglasses. "I'll live," he muttered weakly, struggling to sit up.

"What happened?"

"Heh." Dave scooted back until he was leaning against the wall of the cave. "Those culling drones Karkat and all them mentioned? Yeah, those sons of bitches ain't a fucking joke. They found me. I'm not sure how. But they... They're not too friendly toward humans, I guess."

Rose nodded to herself. "Kanaya did mention..."

"Mention what?"

"Well, the point of culling drones was to weed out the weak members of the race. They probably thought you were some mutant troll or something and... They must have smelled your blood."

Dave pulled a face. Rose couldn't be sure if it was from pain or in response to what she'd said. "Now you sound like Terezi."

"No, but listen. I think that's the point. The bright-red blood—she said it gave off a different kind of smell."

"To _her_. She's _blind_ , remember?"

"Maybe culling drones can smell it, too."

Dave's expression was unreadable, but after a few moments, he nodded. "Maybe." He groaned and tilted his head back. "Doesn't really matter, though."

"You didn't find Jade," Rose half-guessed.

"No luck." He rubbed his forehead. "How long was I gone?"

"Felt like a couple of weeks," John said. He sat down next to Dave and put his arm around him, tugging the blond boy closer.

"Shit," Dave muttered.

"What?"

"It was _supposed_ to feel like a day or something. I was gone four sweeps."

The bottom dropped out of Rose's stomach. "Four _sweeps_?" That was more than eight and a half _years_! It didn't look like Dave had aged at all, but _still_.

"Yeah." Dave nodded again, his head resting against John's shoulder. "I guess I'm not as good as I thought with the time loop thing yet. Speaking of which..." He raised his head, glancing at the mouth of the cave. "I'll destabilize the localized loop in a few minutes. I just need a break."

"Of course." Rose finally sat down opposite John and Dave, drawing her knees up to her chest. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you've been gone for four sweeps."

"Yeah, it sucked hardcore. I was zipping around in my own time bubble the whole time, but... man, it was weird."

"So what else happened?"

"Some mad-wicked shit's been going down out there. I don't know what happened exactly, but The Condesce is still in charge. That didn't change. The Grand Highblood is female, for some reason. As far as I can tell, we're in some whacked-out version of Alternia where... shit, my head's killing me." Dave grimaced, rubbing his forehead harder. "Like the ancestors and stuff, they're still around. I didn't see all of them—just The Condesce and The Grand Highblood and Gamzee—I guess they're calling him The Young Highblood, so he's probably The Grand Highboob's heir or something. And then I saw a bunch of E%ecutors walking around, but all of them look like Equius so it's hard to tell if one of them was him. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think all of the pre-Scratch and post-Scratch trolls are running around out there."

"What about Kanaya?"

"I saw a few jade-bloods who looked like her, but I didn't exactly stop and get a good gander at them. I was a little more preoccupied with a different Jade."

"Was there any sign of her?" John asked.

Dave sighed. "Not as far as I could tell. I found... I could sense a few time anomalies and I followed them as well as I could, but they were basically dead ends. If she was in them, she's not anymore." He ran his fingers through his hair for a minute, propping his elbows up on his knees. Rose could tell he was exhausted—then again, running around bizarro-Alternia for four months straight would do that. "Hell, she may not even be here."

"How could she _not_ be here? _We're_ here," John pointed out.

"Yeah, _we_ are. Maybe whatever brought us here didn't affect her for some reason. I don't know—before we go around saying shit doesn't make sense, we should figure out what the shit actually _is_."

Rose was silent. She didn't like the idea of Jade being back on Earth or out in space or wherever the Hell she actually _was_ and just not being here. Not only did she miss Jade, but without a Space player, they had absolutely zero chance of getting home. There was a reason all sessions had to have at least two players—one of Time, and one of Space. The rest were just extras.

"Well," she murmured on sudden inspiration, "Jade wasn't the only Space player we knew, was she?"

Dave looked up. "You mean Kanaya."

"Yes."

"Wasn't she a Sylph, though? What the fuck does a Sylph even do?"

"I... I think they're healers or something."

"Healer of Space... Better than a Rogue or a Thief, I guess."

"Porrim was Maid of Space, wasn't she?" John pointed out. "We kind of know what a Maid does—Aradia was Maid of Time and she seemed to have a pretty good handle on the time thing. So we get Kanaya or Porrim to help us out."

"Maybe." It was impossible to tell where Dave was looking, but Rose could sense his reluctance.

"It's just...?" she started, waiting for him to go on.

"It's just... we don't know for sure that Jade's not here. I guess it would make sense for her to be here. So what happens if we get one of the Maryams to help us and we leave Jade here?"

"Maybe we shouldn't leave just yet."

"Yeah. We need to make absolutely sure she's not here before we go."

"Not just that, though. Listen," she said. "You said yourself we're on some strange version of Alternia and it looks like _all_ of the trolls are here. That by itself is supremely odd. Someone changed something. What if we're supposed to fix this and _then_ we get our Space player back?"

John looked intrigued. "Or, even if we _did_ somehow find our way back to Earth, that wasn't the same either? She's right—there's no guarantee that getting off Alternia means everything's back to normal."

"This could be a doomed timeline," Dave added quietly. "Meaning all of this is essentially useless because doomed timelines are _doomed_."

John tugged off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So, what you're saying is, we're fucked."

"Basically, yeah. None of this matters because we're all on a collision-course with death."

"I don't think so," Rose said.

"No offense there, Bride of Cthulhu, but _I'm_ the Time player, not you."

Rose gave him a bored look. She'd let that one slide, if only because it had been eight and a half years since he'd seen them. "And I'm the Light player. Specifically, the _Seer_ of Light. Trust me—if this was a doomed timeline, I'd know."

Dave looked at her for a few moments. "Alright. Maybe you're right." He slowly got to his feet. "Okay, I've had enough of this time-loop bullshit. Time to fix it." He went to the mouth of the cave and trailed his hand in midair, as if he were touching a solid wall. After a few moments where he traced a complicated-looking pattern in empty space, he dragged his hand down sharply and turned around, looking triumphant. "Ladies and non-ladies, welcome back to the regular flow of time." He started back toward them.

"Hello?" a small voice called into the cave.


	14. THE SIGNLESS II

_**The Signless** _

He never realized how absolutely boring wigglers were. All they did was roll around and eat. He had no idea how Porrim found Kankri so interesting, but Karkat couldn't wait until he wasn't a wiggler anymore. He'd be more fun to play with then.

So, not for the first time and almost definitely not for the last time, he went out in search of something else more exciting to do.

He wound up near the crater again, but this time, it was empty. He don't know what he would have done if he found another wiggler in it—probably left it, considering the results of the _last_ grub he'd brought back to the hive—but as it was, he was relieved that there didn't appear to be anything new around. Giving up on finding anything interesting now, he went off, not back to his hive, but further away, toward a cave he'd found once, a long time ago. He knew he was going farther than Kanaya warned him to, but it wasn't like there were any culling drones around—he could hide from those anyway.

He got lost twice on the way there and had to go back and retrace his steps (it had been more than a sweep since he'd come here last and he couldn't quite remember the way), but he figured it out finally. To his surprise, though, he heard voices coming from inside the cave. After a minute or two, there was silence, but then a figure appeared at the entrance, more strange-looking than anything.

It looked like a regular troll male between seven and eight sweeps old, but he had pale hair, oddly pinkish-looking skin, dark glasses hiding his eyes, no horns to speak of, and he was dressed in red with what seemed to be a lighter-red gear on his chest. His arms and chest looked raked with cuts, and he appeared to be bleeding some kind of strange, bright-red blood, just like his. He stared until the strange being went back in, disappearing from Karkat's view, and he couldn't help his curiosity. He scrambled up and peered inside. "Hello?"

There were three of them in the cave—the first one he'd seen, a female who looked remarkably like the first male except Karkat could see her eyes and she wore in an orangish dress, and another male with darker, more brownish skin, black hair, glasses that didn't hide his eyes, and a blue outfit. None of them had horns.

They were all staring at him.

The male in blue—he was the highest on the hemospectrum, judging by his clothing. The one in red was obviously the lowest, plus his blood hinted that he was a mutant, too. Why the other two hadn't killed him already was a mystery, but maybe... just maybe, they wouldn't hurt him, either. Maybe they were different.

The male in blue was the first to react. His eyes widened and his face split into a huge grin. "Karkat! Is that _you_?"

He was stunned. The blue-blood _knew_ him? How could he—?

"It's me, John!" he went on, scrambling toward Karkat. "Oh, my God, it's great to see you!"

The other male threw out his arm to catch the one called John around the middle. "John, just fucking look at him for a minute," he said, looking at Karkat still. "Look. He's little."

"Karkat?" the female called, getting to her feet. "How old are you?"

"Four and a half," he answered after a moment of quiet deliberation. They wouldn't hurt him. He could feel it.

"Nine and a half," she murmured softly, probably to herself. "See, John?" she asked the blue-blood, louder. "We knew Karkat when he was six sweeps old. This isn't the same one."

"You know me?"

The male in red shifted uncomfortably. "We _knew_ you. A different version of you, if that makes sense. I'm Dave."

"I'm Rose," the female added.

"So what do we do?" the one called John said.

"Um," Dave said.

"Karkat." Rose crouched down a bit so she was level with him. "Which of the other trolls do you know? Gamzee? Gamzee Makara?"

Karkat blinked in confusion and shook his head.

"Okay." She turned around to face the other two. "Who were his friends?"

"Um... Sollux, Terezi, Kanaya...?" Dave offered.

"I know Kanaya!" Karkat said. "She's my lusus. Well, kind of. She's a troll, but her and Porrim are raising us."

"'Us'?" John asked. "Who's 'us'?"

"Me and Kankri. He's my brother."

Dave groaned. "What the almighty fuck is this? I thought trolls didn't _have_ siblings!"

"They don't," Rose said. Something about what Karkat said clearly bothered her, but he didn't know what it was. "Something changed. He said Kanaya _and_ Porrim are raising them." She turned back to Karkat. "Are Kanaya and Porrim sisters?"

Karkat nodded.

"Karkat. Why don't you and Kankri have real lusii?"

He rocked back on his heels for a minute. "I'm not supposed to say, but..." He glanced at the blood drying on Dave's arms. If they were letting _him_ live...

"Your blood color?" she guessed. "You're a mutant, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Kanaya found me in a crater when I was a wiggler. And then a few days ago, I found Kankri, and he has the same blood color as me, so now Kanaya and Porrim are taking care of both of us. You're not gonna kill me, are you?"

"Of course not," Rose said kindly. She reached out and ruffled his hair, much like Kanaya did. It reassured him.

"Okay, so you don't know Gamzee, Terezi, or Sollux, but you know Kanaya," John said, counting off on his fingers. "So that leaves seven. Who else was there? Oh, right, Vriska. Know her?"

Karkat shook his head.

"The one with the bull—Tavros, that was it," Dave said. "Know him? Tavros Nitram?"

He shook his head again.

John snapped his fingers a few times. "Oh! Nepeta! Nepeta and Equius! You know either of them?"

At his negative answer, they all fell silent for a moment or two. "Aradia?" Rose ventured.

"No."

"Who were the other two—the swimmy ones?" John asked.

"Sea-dwellers?" Karkat asked, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah, Douche-Fin and... fuck, who was the chick who wore all that pink?"

"It was _fuchsia_ ," Rose said patiently, but Karkat was already shaking his head no—violently, with terror in his eyes.

"I don't know any sea-dwellers. They'd kill me if they saw me."

"Not Feferi," Rose said. "She's really nice. Eridan on the other hand... yeah, he was an asshole."

"Hey, didn't Kanaya saw him in half?" John asked with the beginnings of another smile crossing his face.

Suddenly, Dave was laughing and trying not to, covering his mouth with his hand. "Yeah—but he deserved it."

Karkat was lost, but the other three seemed to know what was going on.

"Alright, that's enough," Rose said, but she was smiling, too. "We're getting off-topic here. Alright, Karkat. How old are Kanaya and Porrim?"

"Real old. Kanaya is twenty and Porrim is fifteen." He eyed them all. "Why? How old are you?"

"Sixt—" John started, but Rose cut him off.

"Seven and a half."

That looked about right—they looked like they were close to eight sweeps old. "Where did you come from? You're definitely not trolls."

"No, we're not. We're humans. Our planet is called Earth." She looked to be thinking of something else to say, but he asked another question.

"How did you get here then? I've never heard of Earth."

"That is a very good question," Rose said. "One that we unfortunately don't know the answer to."

"Yeah. We fell asleep on a ship, and when we woke up, we were in the middle of that forest out there," John added.

 _Forest._ That was definitely a blue-blooded word. Most of the people in his hive cluster called it a nature assemblage. "That's really weird."

"Yeah," Dave said. "And the worst thing is, we're actually missing one of our teammates. Maybe you've seen her? Looks a little like us except also kind of like a... dog?"

"A what?"

"Oh, God, what was that word...?"

"A barkbeast," John volunteered. "I think that was it."

"Oh. No, I didn't see anyone who looks like a barkbeast."

"Shit." Rose sat down and ran her fingers through her hair. "Now what?"

"We could go talk to Kanaya," Dave suggested. "And by that, I mean, _you_ could go talk to Kanaya."

Rose's cheeks turned a little more pink than normal. "What would be the point? She wouldn't remember me. And she's twenty sweeps old now."

"Yeah, how old is that in Earth years?" John asked.

"About forty-three."

"She and Porrim are Space players, though," Dave said. "Maybe they could figure out where Jade is."

"But we don't even..." Rose turned back to Karkat. "Hey, listen, do you guys have a video game here called _Sgrub_?"

"I don't think so," Karkat said, feeling more and more confused by the minute. "But I can't play video games anyway."

"Why not?"

"We can't afford a husktop." He sat down and looked at them. "How did you know me?"

"Through the game," John said. "On Earth, it was called _Sburb_. That was... well, for us, it was about three years ago. And when you guys first started contacting us, we thought you were humans who were just fucking with us since you called yourself 'trolls,' and on Earth, a troll is someone who just fucks with people. Also, you said you were six, and we thought you meant six _years_ , not six sweeps. A six-year-old is... Rose, help me out here."

"Um, about two-point-seven sweeps?"

"Sure, sounds about right. So, like, a little kid. So we thought you were just fucking with us, only you weren't. Also, you were kind of mean at first."

"Oh."

"But the only person you actually know from your session is Kanaya, so... damn, I don't know what's happening anymore."

"Did you just get here?"

"No, we got here... Well, it didn't feel that long, but four sweeps ago."

"But you weren't here the last time I found this place."

Rose and John exchanged puzzled looks before they both looked at Dave.

"Time loop fuckery," he explained. "You two existed outside the time stream, so technically, twenty minutes ago, this cave was empty."

"Right. Dave is our Time player, so he set up a loop for us while he went to look for Jade. She's our Space player," Rose said.

"So what are you?"

"I'm a Light player. Seer of Light, to be specific. And John here is the Heir of Breath."

"What was I?"

They all looked at each other, puzzled, but it was John who finally answered. "I'm pretty sure you were Knight of Blood."

 _Knight of Blood._ That somehow felt like it made sense. The Blood part especially, considering his blood color was nearly all Kanaya and Porrim focused on. But Dave was a Time player, wasn't he? "Why aren't you a Blood player?" he asked Dave.

"Why would it be?"

"You have mutant blood like me."

John smacked his forehead. "Crap, I remember that. Actually, Karkat, all humans have the same blood color. In fact, when we found out that trolls had different blood colors, that was really weird to us."

"So how do you decide who your leader is?"

"That depends on where you're from," Rose said. "Where we lived, the leader was decided on with a vote. Everyone chose who they wanted to lead, and the person who was picked most often became the leader. In other places, there's a line of royalty and the leader was an inherited position—I guess like The Condesce and The Grand Highblood. And in other places, there really _isn't_ a leader. People live in anarchy. Those places are dangerous, though."

"Oh." That sounded crazy. "But what if someone isn't right to lead?"

"Well, in the places where we vote, the leader is only leader for four years before there's another vote. If we don't like them, we vote for the other person. If we like them, we vote to keep them in office. But eight years is the limit, so they couldn't be elected a third time."

"But, like, jobs and stuff—how do you decide that? Like, I couldn't be an E%ecutor because I'm not a blue-blood, and only certain castes can be legislacerators, and—"

"It's all based on ability," Rose explained. "For the most part, anyway. In a truly well-functioning society, the only thing that should prevent you from doing what you want is whether or not you can actually do it. There's no culling drones, and people who kill others just because they're weaker are punished."

That sounded _amazing_. Earth seemed like a great place—especially the part about there not being any culling drones. He tried to imagine what it would be like to not have to hide, to not fear for his life every time he left his hive. It was amazing.

"Are you guys gonna be here for awhile?"

Dave shrugged. "Until we find our Space player, we're basically stuck."

Karkat jumped up. "I gotta go back to my hive, but I'll be back. You guys are cool."

John grinned. "You're not so bad, either."

"But you probably shouldn't mention to anyone that we're here. Not even to Kanaya or Porrim or Kankri," Dave added. "Not everyone is going to be as thrilled that we're here."

Karkat paused and then nodded. "I won't tell anyone."

"Good. Come back soon, okay? We missed you a little."


	15. THE HANDMAID II / THE INSPIRED

_**The Handmaid** _

This was the last thing in the world Aradia wanted to be doing. It made her stomach turn just thinking about it. It wasn't like dropping a grub off in a crater and leaving it to be found—this was an act that would directly lead to death.

But she'd already skipped past this part in the timeline and she knew what happened and she knew that if she _didn't_ do this, it would create another doomed, offshoot timeline, and everyone would die. Wasn't this better than dooming an entire race?

She sucked in a steadying breath and set up another time jump. With one last look at Damara (and carefully avoiding looking at the grub she was about to betray), she stepped through and came out in The Grand Highblood's respiteblock.

Kurlas Makara looked up at her in surprise. "Motherfucker. I didn't think you were ever motherfucking coming back."

 _Right._ This was the second time The Grand Highblood had seen her, although it was the first time Aradia had appeared to her. She pretended it wasn't, though. _If I were trying to make a point, what would I do?_ She pulled out a chair and sat down. "So good to see you again. Judging by the murmurings in the streets, The Imperial Vacation was a resounding success."

"The Princess did seem to motherfucking help The Young Highblood get his settle down on," Kurlas admitted—somewhat grudgingly, Aradia noted.

"And I trust Her Imperious Condescension was satisfied with The Princess?"

"She was."

"No further plans to cull her one and only heir?"

"Not that she's motherfucking told me."

"Good." Aradia smiled. "Then everything went just as it should."

"I know you ain't motherfucking here to make with the motherfucking small talk up in this bitch."

"So perceptive." She'd forgotten how annoying Makaras were as a rule. Hell, she was starting to think she might prefer Gamzee to this bitch. At least he was usually too stoned to bother her. "And you're right. I'm not here to exchange idle chit-chat. I was merely prefacing the next instruction with a bit of congratulations for a job well done." She looked up from studying her nails. "Congratulations," she added, a tad unnecessarily.

"What's the next motherfucking order?"

"Right to business then? If you insist.

"You may be unaware—" That was a straight-up lie—she knew perfectly well that The Grand Highblood had no fucking clue "—that there are two mutants running around Alternia, causing all kinds of trouble."

"I hadn't motherfucking heard that."

"Because it's not true. Not yet, anyway. They're only two and six right now."

"The motherfucking culling drones will find them and get their culling on."

"Oh, you'd think that, but they're too well-hidden. Even _I_ don't know where they are." Another lie, but Kurlas didn't need to know that. "But I can tell you this: they're being hidden by a jade-blood. They call her The Inspired. Something about propaganda regarding equality up and down the hemospectrum, all that nonsense. You and I both know the castes exist for a reason." Aradia's dark-red blood meant she was the lowest possible rank on the hemospectrum, but despite that (or maybe _because_ of that), she didn't buy into the blood superiority complex. However, that was something else The Grand Highblood didn't need to know.

"Two motherfucking mutants," Kurlas murmured.

"Yes. With bright, candy-red blood. The culling drones must be slipping to let not one but _two_ get past them." The culling drones had nothing to do with the Vantases, of course. _She_ was the reason they were even alive right now. "Like I said, the mutants are only two and six sweeps old right now—hardly a threat. Plenty of time to find them and cull them later," she added. She couldn't downplay them enough. "But The Inspired... she needs to be stopped. And I know exactly where you can find her. And when it would be best to apprehend her."

"And I assume you're going to motherfucking tell me soon?" The Grand Highblood asked, sounding annoyed.

"Of course. That's why I'm here, after all." She slid a folded-up piece of paper across Kurlas's working platform. "That is where and when you can find her. Send a few Defenders there to... make an example of her."

The Grand Highblood unfolded the paper and looked at it for a few moments. "You're motherfucking sure she'll be there?"

"Absolutely certain. She'll be alone, with no way to fight back. With any luck, the other villagers will give up the mutants shortly thereafter."

"And suppose they motherfucking don't?"

"They'll turn up eventually. Mutants always do."

Kurlas nodded. "Fine. I'll get her motherfucking taken care of."

"Good." Aradia stood up and made to leave, but The Grand Highblood held up her hand.

"Just a motherfucking minute, Handmaid."

"What, Highblood?"

Kurlas looked irritated at the casual way Aradia addressed her, but when she spoke again, it wasn't to comment on it. "When's the next time you're motherfucking planning to show up in this bitch?"

"Oh, it'll be another two or three sweeps," she said lazily. "Make yourself comfortable—I'm going to be around for awhile."

* * *

_**The Inspired** _

Porrim hugged and kissed Kankri, Karkat, and Kanaya goodbye before they left for the marketplace. Kankri was dozing off in Kanaya's arms—he'd finished molting not too long ago and still wasn't very strong on his new legs, but Karkat was at Kanaya's side, his hood obscuring most of his face. All three of them wore hoods on their cloaks, actually. It was safer that way, better to avoid recognition.

"We'll be back soon," Kanaya reassured her. "Don't worry."

"You know I worry about you all every time you leave the hive," Porrim said quietly. She patted Kankri's head through his hood, and he made a tiny sound of satisfaction.

"Unnecessarily," Kanaya said, smiling. "We'll be just fine. We always are." After all, Karkat knew not to run off—it was dangerous—and Kankri was securely ensconced in her arms. They were as safe as they could be. "Come along, Karkat," she added. "Stay close."

Porrim watched them go until they'd disappeared from sight, and then she waited a little longer. It wasn't often she got the hive to herself anymore—not that she didn't adore Karkat and Kankri, because they _had_ grown on her, and she was as fiercely protective of them both as Kanaya was, but she did sometimes miss the days when it was just Kanaya and her.

Karkat was six now—only two more sweeps before he left them and started his own life, but even then, she knew the danger would never truly pass. He would still have mutant blood, after all, and he could never really be safe. The same with Kankri. She just hoped that they could still live full, happy lives like they deserved.

Their blood color meant that they would probably die before even the lowest on the hemospectrum, and Porrim tried to wrap her head around the fact that she would probably see them die long before she, too, died, but it seemed too far-off to contemplate. After all, they were still children, one barely out of his wiggler stage—it would be a long time from now.

Her musings were interrupted with a knock on the entrance portal, and Porrim smiled to herself. Likely Kankri had begun whining for one of his toys, and Kanaya, who found it so difficult to deny them anything, had turned back to fetch it.

But when she opened the portal, it wasn't Kanaya and the children. It was two blue-blooded Defenders, based on their garb, and a shudder of terror went through her. She tried to play it off as if it were nothing, though. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, forcing her voice not to shake.

"Are you the one called The Inspired?"

"I have been called that on occasion, yes."

As one, they reached out and grabbed her arms, and the one on her right said, "Under the authority of The Grand Highblood, you are hereby sentenced to death."

It was then that she realized—these weren't Defenders. These were E%ecutors. "On what charges?" she demanded, knowing she was completely and utterly screwed. They had her arms in grips like iron; she had no hope of getting free. All she could do was stall them for as long as possible, even as they dragged her toward the middle of the hive cluster.

"The protection and harboring of two mutants," the one on her left spat.

"We have been tasked to make an example of you."

Behind them, six Defenders—actual Defenders this time, not E%ecutors—stormed into her hive. "What—what are they doing?"

"Searching for the mutants. We've been ordered to cull them on sight."

Blind panic coursed through her. They were bigger and stronger than her, but she struggled to free herself anyway. "But they haven't done anything! They're just children, please!"

"They're not children. They're abominations."

" _No_ ," she choked out through tears that welled up. "They're not even here!"

There was a post in the center of the hive cluster. It hadn't been used for sweeps—this was a small, close-knit hive cluster without a hint of illegal activity until now. It was this post that the E%ecutors dragged her to. One removed the cuffs from his belt and chained her with her arms wrapped around it in a cold, awkward embrace. She shook her wrists to see if she had any hope of getting free, but of course, there was none. She knew she was going to die.

The E%ecutors circled behind her so she couldn't see what they were doing but she heard the slide of leather on leather and, a heartbeat later, a whip cracking against the ground. She bit her lip reflexively, knowing that soon enough she'd be feeling its sting across her back.

 _At least they're gone_ , she told herself, bracing her chin against the top of the post. As long as Kanaya stayed far away, Karkat and Kankri would be safe. She hoped.

Before she was ready, there was another crack as the whip finally met her skin, and Porrim let out an involuntary scream. People were starting to trickle out of their hives, curiosity getting the better of them. She could almost see what they were thinking: _Who is that out there? Who incurred the wrath of The Grand Highblood?_

With another crack and another scream, she felt her skin split open, and as the end of the whip struck the ground, flecks of jade fell from it to the dirt. She was already bleeding—she couldn't believe it. Numbly, she tried to blink back her tears, but it was useless. With the third crack, her scream broke into a sob. She dug her nails into her palms in a futile attempt to distract herself from the pain.

She never thought it would end like this—whipped to death in public for the sakes of two mutant-blooded children whose only crime was being hatched different. She thought about them, thought about Kanaya, and the selfish, self-serving part of herself wished they'd never found Karkat in the first place.

But the selfless part of her was grateful—grateful none of them were here to witness this, grateful this was her being scourged instead of one or all of them (and she tried not to imagine Kankri, tiny little Kankri, or the way he would howl as the E%ecutors would no doubt whip him), grateful they had a chance to escape and fulfill their destinies. By now, she knew that Kanaya had been right about the candy-blooded wigglers. They were sent to Alternia for a reason, and maybe it was her destiny to die here today, but Karkat and Kankri had greater destinies. They would lead Alternia into a shining new age of blood equality, where blood castes and the hemospectrum would be a thing of the past.

She offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she had been allowed to know them.

The whip fell across her back again, but the pain felt dulled. Her gaze fell to the ground and she realized that the jade pools around her were her blood. She'd already lost so much blood—what was left?

"You can spare your precious abominations this fate," one of the E%ecutors growled, punctuating his statement with another crack of his whip.

Now, every time the whip fell, it was the crowd crying out as though it were they who could feel the agony from it, not her. She let out a faint whimper, but there was a roaring in her ears that spread to her toes and made her feel dizzy and cold.

"They don't have to die like this," the other one said. "They can get nice, clean deaths at the end of an arrow."

"All you have to do is tell us where they are."

Something drew her gaze from the ground, over the heads of the mob around her, toward the edge of the hive cluster. Two figures stood there, the shorter one clutching the hand of the taller one, who appeared to be cradling a lump in her other arm. It was her family. Had they heard her screams and returned to find out what had happened? How long had she been out here? How long had they been gone?

Another crack. " _Tell us._ "

She swallowed hard and tasted her own blood. "Never," she whispered hoarsely, her throat raw from screaming.

"What was that? Speak up!"

Porrim inhaled sharply, sucking in as much air as she could. " _NEVER!_ "

She saw Kanaya take an involuntary step back. _Run_ , she begged her sister silently. _Keep them safe and run._

It was her last stand. She could do nothing else but let them flee. She wished desperately that Karkat—he was only six, still so young—had been spared this last sight of her dying, but there was nothing else anyone could do about it.

This was her gift to the three of them. This would be their one last chance to escape. _Go_ , she thought as another strike fell across her back.

As if they'd heard her silent command, Kanaya turned and fled.


	16. THE DOLOROSA II

_**The Dolorosa** _

Her lungs burned, but she didn't dare stop to breathe. Every nerve ending she had was on fire, but she continued running with only the sound of Karkat's panting echoing in her ears as her indication that he was still there, keeping up with her.

She didn't _want_ to breathe, she didn't want to think, she didn't want to feel anything but the screaming in her muscles, but the aching in her chest reminded her of what was missing. _Who_ was missing.

Kankri was crying, too, and finally Kanaya was forced to stop and put him down, dropping to her knees. Karkat's poor legs gave out and he collapsed next to them, flat on his back and staring up at the sky unblinkingly.

Now that they'd stopped—she didn't know how far they'd run, but it would never be far enough—every thought she'd been trying to shut out caught back up to her. She felt herself hunching over and she buried her face in her hands to hide her tears, but she couldn't disguise her broken sob as anything but what it was: the cry of someone who had lost her sister, her hive, and her whole life save two children. All they had was the clothes they wore and the food in the basket that Karkat cradled.

Kankri cried for Porrim, gurgling the question, "Where's Porry?" over and over. Karkat's tears came silently, candy-red streaks that led into his hair. "She's dead, isn't she?" he asked quietly. He already knew the answer, though.

Kanaya couldn't answer—she was struggling not to let out another sob. She could only hope Kankri hadn't heard him. It was bad enough Karkat had had to watch the E%ecutors culling Porrim. She'd been able to shield Kankri from it, but what was the point? This was the way of life. People were culled every day.

But she hadn't been some faceless part of the mass. It was Porrim, her sister, just as much guardian and provider for Karkat and Kankri as she was. And now, she was gone.

_But how?_ another part of her wondered. How had the E%ecutors known where they were, known _who_ they were? What happened? Had someone in their hive cluster sold them out to The Grand Highblood?

None of it made any sense. She was lost and all she could do was follow the rising sun away from the hive cluster to any place else. She hadn't imagined when they went to the market that it was the last time anything would be normal. She shouldn't have left Porrim by herself, but she thought that the children would be in more danger than either of them...

And what would have happened if she'd left Kankri, who had started fussing for Porrim almost immediately after they left, or Karkat behind? Or both of them? No doubt she wouldn't be here right now. She tried to contemplate it, but all she could think was that then she'd have three dead family members now instead of one. She could almost hear Kankri's agonized sobs splitting the air as they whipped him like they had Porrim, and she reflexively reached out for him and pulled him to her chest.

He was still crying softly, but at least he wasn't in physical pain, and he buried his face in her chest. After a moment or two, she reached out for Karkat, who had finally sat up, and drew him close to her as well. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and wept quietly into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to both of them, to the silent ghost of Porrim hovering over them. It wasn't fair—but then again, life wasn't fair. Now they had to learn how to survive without Porrim. Even her.

"Where are we gonna go?" Karkat asked softly.

"I don't know, darling. Far away. Somewhere they won't know who we are." She shifted Kankri higher, and he wrapped his arms around her neck. "We have to start over, as different people. A new life."

"But... how did they find us? They could find us again."

"I know they could, darling, but we have to be ready to run again. We were lucky—we _were_ ," she added as Karkat opened his mouth to protest. "Do you realized, darling, what Porrim sacrificed for us? They asked her where we were. She saw us. She knew _exactly_ where we were. If she had told them, they would not have spared her life, but they would have ended it quickly—far more quickly than they did. But they would have inflicted on us the kind of death they gave her. Brutal. Drawn-out. Humiliating. Yes, even Kankri would have died like that. Kankri and you and me. All of us. For no other reason than the fact that you're different and we protected you. But she didn't. She allowed us to flee, and we were fortunate that we went to the market—we have food to last for a few days. By doing what she did, she saved us. So yes, darling, we were lucky. It's up to us now to make sure we don't waste what she gave us. I don't know how they found us, but we need to be sure they don't find us again. We got complacent— _I_ got complacent," she murmured. "Five and a half sweeps without an incident, and I believed us safe. Maybe someone in the hive cluster grew wise to us and told The Grand Highblood or a passing Defender. I don't know. But we must not allow it to happen again. Karkat, darling." She tilted his face up so he met her gaze. "We must all keep each other safe. I will keep you and Kankri safe, and you must keep him safe as well."

"What about you?"

"I will keep myself safe as well. Do you understand?"

Karkat bit his lip but nodded slowly. She had a feeling he understood very well what she was saying. She was grateful for that.

But he was six now. Only two more sweeps until he was an adult. She underestimated him, but she wouldn't anymore.

"Porrim is... _was_ someone who realized that there are greater forces at work than we can see. You and Kankri were brought to us for a reason. I doubt there would be many others who would have cared for you as we did."

"She was inspired."

Kanaya sighed softly. "Yes, darling. She was."

"And she died for us."

"Yes, she did." It sounded like Karkat was going somewhere with this, but she couldn't tell where.

After a few moments, he gave her a sidelong look. "What if, instead of 'The Inspired,' we called her 'The Witnesse'? Would that be alright?"

Kanaya smiled. "Yes, darling. I like it very much, and I think she would, too." She kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair, pausing only for a moment to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. "Come. We need to keep moving." She climbed to her feet, keeping Kankri pinned to her chest. She shifted him to her other hip and took Karkat's hand once he'd picked the basket back up. "We'll find another place to live. We just need to keep going."

* * *

It wasn't easy. Kankri grew heavy in her arms, but she didn't dare set him down as they walked—with his short legs, he would have no hope of keeping up with them. For several days, he rode clinging to her back or sitting astride her shoulders, but Kanaya found that she couldn't carry him like that for much longer—he had a tendency to accidentally pull her hair or inadvertently choke her.

They traveled by day and slept by night, hiding under huge rocks or in brambly patches of bushes to rest. She slept fitfully, staying awake as much as possible. She craved the rest a recuperacoon provided, and though they passed several slightly-larger hive clusters, she didn't feel safe stopping there, even for the night. It was still too close to where they used to live, and she feared word had reached outlying hive clusters of the way Porrim had been executed and why. There could be E%ecutors looking for them, too—and whether they knew who they were looking for or not, an adult traveling with a six-sweep-old and a two-sweep-old would arouse suspicion, especially an adult of her blood color. Jade-bloods were almost exclusively female, and Karkat at least was obviously male. Kankri at least still looked fairly androgynous, but the three of them together with no lusus in sight... No, they had to go far, farther than they'd ever traveled.

And then there was the bickering. Something about the close quarters and Karkat's moodiness and the fact that Kankri was such an easy target meant that the two of them sniped at each other almost constantly. Kanaya had to admit that, even at only two, Kankri had an innate sense of what annoyed Karkat the most and took every opportunity he could to hammer at it until not even Kanaya's shooshing could calm Karkat down. She had to remind herself that Karkat was already six and starting to struggle with what were undoubtedly some strong black feelings with no one but her and Kankri around (and it was too early for Kankri to return those feelings in kind, but she suspected they might become kismeses in a few sweeps' time), so she found herself auspisticing between them quite often. It was tedious work and, she suspected, essentially useless since the next day they would be arguing again, but at least for the rest of the day, they would be civil with each other. They were a handful on their own.

However, she was forced to head into hive clusters to look through their marketplaces. She didn't have much money on her when they left, but when they ran low on food, she was able to catch a few hopbeasts and sell them or exchange them for food that would last a little longer. She didn't like leaving Karkat and Kankri by themselves for any length of time, not while they were still traveling, but here, she had no choice. Once she made sure they were safely concealed, she would venture into the hive cluster and procure food. As a lone adult jade-blood, she hardly elevated any eyebrows, and if anyone was looking for her, they would be looking for two children with her. Still, she felt skittish until she was finally out of the hive cluster and back with Karkat and Kankri.

Kankri had realized by now that Porrim wasn't coming back to them. He was only two, though, so the finality of her being gone (Kanaya and Karkat avoided using the words "dead" or "culled" around him) hadn't quite sunk in yet. He still cried for her when he was too cold or too hungry or too tired, although Kanaya tried her best to keep both of them as warm and fed and rested as possible. Even if she went without, it was worth it for them.

She tried to keep Karkat from noticing, but as a few days traveling through nature assemblages passed and turned into a half a sweep, he began catching little things he'd missed before, like how, whenever they ate, she would eat only when they were finished or sometimes, not at all. At first, he looked at her curiously, and she realized that he suspected something but couldn't quite figure out what it was, but then one evening as they sat around a small pile of dying embers, he scooted closer to her, holding out his mostly-untouched leg of hopbeast. "You haven't been eating," he said quietly. "You have to eat, too."

"I know, darling," she said. "But you need your strength. You and Kankri both are growing. You need to eat far more than I do."

Karkat eyed the hopbeast leg for a few moments. "If you won't eat, then I won't, either."

"Karkat, darling," she started, but he shook his head.

"You can't keep going like this. Please." He held out the hopbeast leg again. "You take a bite, and then I will."

She saw that he was set on it. She heard the growling in his stomach as well as the rumbling in her own, and knew that he could probably hear how hungry she was. He wouldn't be swayed, so she tentatively took a small bite.

He noticed that, too, and made a dissatisfied sound at the back of his throat.

"Your turn," she said, and in response, he took a bite that was equally as small, if not smaller. They went back and forth, each trying to leave more food for the other, until the bone was stripped clean and neither felt fully satisfied. They stared each other down as Kankri let out a yawn, his own hopbeast leg finished (she felt slightly ashamed that Kankri had eaten as much as Karkat and her combined), and crawled over to her to put his head in her lap.

"I'm six and a half," Karkat said quietly, so as not to wake Kankri. "I'm almost an adult. You should let me help you."

"We won't be traveling much longer, darling. Just a little longer and we'll be able to rest." She smiled fondly. "Once we settle, we'll all be able to eat our fill and sleep as much as we want."

"But that doesn't help you now. You can't keep missing meals. Kankri's only two and a half—he doesn't eat much. And I'm strong—I don't need as much. You still need to eat as much as we do."

She knew he was right, but she didn't like the idea of him eating less for her sake. "Alright, darling. Go to sleep, and we'll discuss this in the morning. We'll finish off this hopbeast and then be on our way. Okay?"

Karkat nodded tentatively before he carefully put what was left of the hopbeast into the basket for the morning. Then, like his younger brother, he curled up close to Kanaya and fell asleep.


	17. THE FINALIST / THE FOLLOWER

_**The Finalist** _

Something was wrong. They could all feel it. Something in the air had changed, turning it cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Dave had taken to putting up a time loop in the cave for Rose and John and waiting outside it for Karkat in his own time bubble that rendered him invisible but still allowed him to register the passage of time. It was probably only because of his role as Knight of Time that he was able to manipulate the streams, because John had a feeling he would go crazy if he did the same thing. But the bubbles allowed them to pass great chunks of time (they'd already been on Alternia for several sweeps although it felt like a few months to them, but as far as he could tell, they hadn't aged at all) in nearly no time at all while keeping them from having to hunt the Alternian fauna for food or try to figure out what of the flora was edible.

The loops left them bored, though, so John began practicing "doing the windy thing" and floating over Rose's head while she simply meditated. He worried a little that she was in danger of going grimdark again, but her skin didn't turn any freaky colors so she was probably alright.

It wasn't until Dave reappeared one day looking slightly worried that John even had the presence of mind to wonder how much more time had passed.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

Dave didn't move for a moment, and John couldn't tell where his eyes were focused because of his sunglasses, but he finally said, "It's been a half a sweep since the last time Karkat came by here."

There it was. The cold nameless feeling that had been hovering just overhead came crashing down, and John realized that he _had_ somehow been subliminally aware of how long it had been—maybe not exactly, but enough to register that it had been awhile.

Rose slowly got to her feet. "Then something happened, didn't it?"

"I don't know, Seer of Light, maybe you can enlighten us," Dave said, a bit snarkily John thought, but Rose only arched an eyebrow at him.

"I don't think..." She closed her eyes. "He's still alive. Where, I don't know, but he _is_ alive. We... we need to find him. And Kanaya, Porrim, and Kankri as well."

"So we have to find his village or wherever the fuck he lives and hunt him down basically," Dave said.

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"Trolls are active only at night. Kanaya's really the only one we've seen who actually _likes_ the sun," Dave added.

"Porrim, too. It's an extension of their rainbow-drinker abilities, although it might not have manifested in these versions of them. The Alternians call them 'shadow-droppers.' So we should explore by day because if we do see anyone out there, it'll most likely be one of them."

John's feet picked up off the ground as he began floating. "Then what are we waiting for?"

The only clue they had as to where Karkat's village might be was the direction he seemed to come from every time he came to see them, but it was as good a place as any to start. They skimmed the tree line, heading in a straight line and keeping their eyes open for any break in the trees that would indicate a village or town. They flew for nearly an hour before John saw a gap to his left.

"Hey! Check that out!"

Rose and Dave followed his sight line. "That might just be it," she said. "Let's go."

When they touched down, it was still fairly light out, so there were no trolls wandering around. It definitely was a village, though whether it was Karkat's or not remained to be seen. And then John caught sight of something near the center of the village and approached it. It looked like a thick wooden post, but there was something draped over it, and a sign on posts above it. As he drew closer, the thing over the post grew more detailed. It had a mottled gray covering with darker patches that almost looked like zigzags and long, dark... _Hey._ That looked like hair. "Oh, shit," he breathed. It was a _troll_ there, although she (he was fairly certain, based on the hair, that it was a female, but he had also seen male trolls with long hair, like the Zahhaks) definitely didn't look to be alive. Her clothing looked torn and faded, but the color was familiar.

She was a jade-blood. "Rose," he said as loudly as he dared. "Dave. Look."

He heard Rose let out a strangled gasp behind him and then, a moment later, she charged forward. "Please don't be Kanaya, please don't be Kanaya," she murmured, closing in until she was able to touch jade-blood. After a few moments, she looked up and down the female's arms and settled back with a half-relieved, half-mournful sigh. "These tattoos. Porrim had them. She had them when we knew her and Karkat mentioned them. This is Porrim." She straightened up, tenderly brushing a few fingers through Porrim's hair. "I believe she's been dead for awhile. There's..." She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "There's deep lacerations on her back. I think she was scourged and left to die here."

"So... if that's Porrim, where are the other three?" Dave asked quietly.

"I have a feeling that if they were dead, they'd be here, too." Rose looked around sharply. "This was a public execution. Everyone could see her. She was meant to be an example, a deterrent to others. Back home, when this kind of thing was common, people would put the reason someone was condemned by their corpse. There should be..." She looked up and found the post. There were words scrawled across it, but of course, John couldn't read it. "I can't exactly translate it... But the rough idea..." She tilted her head to the side. "Hiding and protecting mutants. It also says that her sister and the mutants are missing." She turned back around to face them. "They ran. She probably died protecting them, so Kanaya probably took them to hide them."

Dave groaned and rubbed his temples. "Which means they could be anywhere. It's been a half a sweep—they probably cleared out a few days after the last time he came by, from the looks of her. I'm assuming they left right away, right? That makes sense to everyone?"

John and Rose nodded.

"So, yeah, I don't know how far they could have gotten on foot, but I bet it's pretty far, and now we don't even know where they went."

"Kankri's the equivalent of five years old right now," Rose pointed out. "With him, the going is most likely slower. But... I agree. A half a sweep is a long time."

"So what do we do?" John asked. "Spread out and search?"

"Bad idea," Dave said. "If we split up, we might not find each other again. Even if I put you guys in time bubbles, we don't know this planet well enough."

"The sun's setting," Rose observed suddenly. "I suggest we abscond to the cave to decide there."

"Wait." John looked at Porrim's lifeless body and then to where she would have been facing as she died. "What if they went that way?" he asked, pointing. "What if they saw her and... look, there was probably a crowd of people watching, you know? They would have all been facing her. So while everyone's backs are turned, they went the opposite way. Besides, it looks like the most well-traveled way out of here."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "It's a better lead than anything else we've got. I say, follow the leader. Dave?"

Dave extended his arms and immediately, a light mist seemed to envelop the three of them. "Time bubbles are a go. Let's follow the trail."

* * *

_**The Follower** _

Still half-asleep, Meulon could hear hushed voices.

"Are we stopping here?" someone asked.

"Yes, darling."

"Just for the night, right?"

"No, darling. We've run far enough. I believe we may be safe here."

He pried his eyes open and blinked slowly to clear his vision, staring down at the ground from his tree. Passing below him was a woman wearing jade-green and another, slightly-smaller figure in gray. It took him a second to realize that there was a third, even smaller child cradled in the jade-blood's arms. He looked to be close to three sweeps old, and Meulon wondered what a jade-blood was doing with two children who were clearly not her blood color and with no lusus in sight. _Something's wrong here._

He watched them until they passed out of sight and into the nature assemblage outside his hive cluster. No doubt there would be talk of their arrival, and they preferred to keep a low profile. He caught Nepeta's eye in another tree, and she nodded. Together, the two of them shimmied down their respective trees.

"She's a jade-blood," Nepeta said immediately.

"Did you see the wiggler with them?"

"I wonder what happened."

"The children may be orphans."

Nepeta gazed after them. "I don't see their lusus. I think you're right."

_They weren't culled. She must be protecting them._ He found himself strangely moved, and when he looked back at Nepeta, he could tell she felt the same.

"We should help them," she said quietly. "They seem nice."

Meulon nodded. "And Pounce de Leon can act as a lusus for them. I think she'd like the wiggler." Besides, Nepeta was eight now, already of age, and he was twelve. Neither of them had much actual use for a lusus anymore, although they were both greatly attached to her.

As if on cue, Pounce slunk over to them, purring questioningly. Nepeta crouched down, petting her gently. "Go over there and get their attention. Play nice," she added in a mock-stern tone.

Pounce gave an understanding purr and began trailing after the new arrivals. As she caught up to them and circled them, the woman jumped in surprise.

And then, taking Meulon and Nepeta by surprise, Pounce did as her name suggested and pounced, taking down the figure in gray. He let out a yelp and Pounce began licking his face.

"Oh, _no_ ," Nepeta groaned. Shaking her head, she took off after their lusus, and Meulon followed her. "Pounce de Leon! That's not what I meant!"

"We're very sorry," Meulon added as they finally came close enough to the trio to speak. "She's usually better-behaved than this."

Nepeta crouched down to pull Pounce off the boy and regard him.

The woman seemed speechless, so Meulon went on. "Um, I'm Meulon, and this is my sister Nepeta. We saw you a few minutes ago, and... well, we noticed that you don't have a lusus. I'm twelve and Nepeta here is eight, so we don't legally need her anymore, you know? So we figured... maybe, since you've probably been traveling, maybe you'd like to rest with us for a while."

"I... I'm not so sure if that's such a good..." Her eyes fell to the boy, and reflexively, Meulon looked down, too.

Nepeta's cheeks had a light green tinge to them as she blushed, and the boy's ears were turning _red_. It was a bright red, too, not the dark red of the peasantry, but the two of them were still looking at each other and blushing.

_Bright red._ He'd never met anyone with a blood mutation before, mostly because they were culled before they even finished the trials, but he was fascinated, and besides, it was pretty obvious that Nepeta liked him—and he liked her.

Meulon would have bet anything that the smaller child in the woman's arms had the same blood mutation, too. _Amazing._ "Please, miss. It would be better for both of them if they laid low."

The woman looked back up. "I suppose... perhaps you're right."

"Obviously, everyone here knows that Pounce is our lusus, but it would fool any E%ecutors or Defenders who may come through and ask questions. Everyone here keeps mostly to themselves," he added.

The woman finally nodded. "Alright. Just until we can make a hive of our own. My name is Kanaya. I'm called The Dolorosa. This is Kankri, and that's Karkat."

"Kar _cat_?" Meulon could already hear the pun in his sister's words. "Nice to meet you!"

Karkat smiled and got to his feet with Nepeta's help. He was shorter than her, but he looked to be seven at the oldest—possibly younger. Meulon supposed it made sense, and he would no doubt continue growing.

"Come on. I'll show you to our hive."


	18. E%ECUTOR DARKLEER II

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

There was always something going wrong where The Grand Highblood was concerned, and today was no different.

Equius had been woken up two hours before sunset by an alert coming in on his comms panel. Ordinarily, he would have let whoever was paging him leave a message, but this particular alert was only assigned to The Grand Highblood herself. She usually left him alone for the most part, allowing him to assign tasks as he saw fit, but once in awhile, she'd contact him in a frothing rage, barking at him to _fix this motherfucking shit_ and he'd break into a sweat and profusely insist that her orders would be carried through to the letter. The most recent example was about a sweep and a half ago, when she told him to send two E%ecutors and a half-dozen Defenders (who he was not in charge of, but he had their Commander listed as a contact) to a small hive cluster hundreds of miles away to publicly execute a jade-blood suspected of harboring mutants and to track down the mutants and the jade-blood's sister, if possible. The jade-blood had been executed as ordered, but her sister and the mutants were nowhere to be found. The Grand Highblood had stated that they weren't a priority, that they'd turn up eventually, so after a half a sweep with no clues to their whereabouts, he called the teams back.

Now, though, it seemed that The Grand Highblood had another assignment, and the moment he heard her alert, he scrambled out of his recuperacoon and to the comms panel. "E%ecutor Darkleer, awaiting orders, Grand Highblood," he spluttered out, quickly dropping to one knee.

"Darkleer!" she roared, and Equius cringed internally. He could tell already that she was in one of her furious moods. He wondered how bad it would be this time.

"Yes, Grand Highblood?" He chanced a glance up. Sure enough, there was the indigo-blood, leaning forward in her throne and glaring at him. Behind her was her brother, hands behind his back, eyes open, and mouth shut.

Ever since The Young Highblood had returned from his excursion around Alternia in the company of The Princess, everyone at The Grand Highblood's court noted how different he seemed. He'd grown even taller during the trip, but he remained as thin and ill-nourished as ever. There were whispered reports that he seemed to be in better health (he was still sometimes called The Soporite, but from what he understood, he indulged in sopor pies less often) physically, although when he was sober, he lashed out verbally at nearly everyone. The Grand Highblood was pleased with the change, though. She'd often remarked that her heir was a great disappointment, but now she seemed to have reversed her judgment on him. He was at her side constantly to better learn what it meant to be The Grand Highblood.

Then again, there were other rumors that The Young Highblood and The Princess had formed a moirallegiance during the venture, and that their current separation (from what he understood, it had been a full two sweeps since they saw each other last) was having a negative effect on him. Equius had never had a real moirail before, but he imagined that living half a world away from one's moirail would be most trying.

"The motherfucking lowbloods are getting restless!" The Grand Highblood barked. "Go motherfucking fix it!"

Here was where he wished he had his brother's way with words. The Grand Highblood's directions were always infuriatingly vague, and he had to find a respectful way to clarify her orders. "At once, Grand Highblood." He waited for a moment. "If I may, where is it that these lowbloods are?"

Another face appeared on the screen, and relief washed over Equius. The Director, a close friend of his named Pashil Forrio, was one of The Grand Highblood's closest Advisers, a blue-blood just slightly higher than him on the hemospectrum. He was the sole voice of reason when dealing with The Grand Highblood. "What The Grand Highblood means to say is, these restless lowbloods are everywhere. The rule of our Grand Highblood, as well as Her Imperious Condescension, is being called into question by this lowblood scum. It is our directive that you find the source or sources of these whisperings and make an example of them. You did so well with the jade-blood a sweep or two back that we know there is no one better suited to the task."

"You do me too much honor," Equius said with a slight bow. "I merely commanded—I was not present myself."

"And that, I'm afraid, is where this will be different." Forrio did look apologetic, and Equius wondered what was about to befall him. "The Grand Highblood is ordering you to personally oversee this investigation. From the roots of it, as it were." The Director consulted his notes for a moment. "We will provide funding for you and three-dozen E%ecutors to search out the cause and bring them to justice. We expect weekly reports. You leave at sunset tomorrow."

That wasn't much time. It was true that Horuss was now fourteen and more than capable of taking care of himself, but Equius still found himself distressed at the thought of leaving his brother behind. Horuss would sometimes become so involved with his projects that he would forget to eat for days until Equius found him and dragged him to a loaded nutrition plateau and gently remind him that he still needed food. He had no doubt that Aurthour would feed Horuss, but the musclebeast was getting up in sweeps and would find it hard to convince Equius's brother to take a break. It was Horuss's maddening obsession to the task at hand that had both his admiration and his frustration.

"As you command," Equius murmured with a respectful bow. He heard the comms panel cut out and he sighed. He supposed that he needed to begin packing for this journey, but it was one to which he was not looking forward.

* * *

"Darkleer. It's been awhile," a teasing voice said from behind him.

It was a week later, and Equius had been trying to blend in at the seaside tavern, but apparently his presence had been noticed. Before he could even turn around, the owner of the voice dropped into the chair across from him with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mindfang," he muttered with only the slightest nod to acknowledge her presence.

Another young woman, a few sweeps younger than Mindfang and dressed in the same cerulean blue, pulled out another chair and sat down next to her. Their eyes were identical—specifically, their left eyes, which looked to be one pupil surrounded by six others in a ring. This could only be Mindfang's sister. It shouldn't have surprised him to learn that she did have one (he vaguely recalled her mentioning it once), but it did.

"My sister. The Scorpion," Mindfang said carelessly, noticing his look.

"My intent is to maintain a low profile," Equius said. "Associating with a known enemy of The Condesce will—"

"It'll help you, trust me. You know what _really_ makes you stand out? Drinking alone." Mindfang twisted around and signaled to the barkeep. "Two more pints!" she called, and then turned back to Equius. "So, tell me, what business does the Commander of the E%ecutor Corps have in our fair cluster?"

"What business does a pirate have anywhere?" Equius shot back.

Mindfang's smirk widened. "Ah, after the booty then?"

"Of sorts," he replied, pointedly ignoring her innuendo. "I seek information. I hadn't intended to contact you, but now that you're hear, perhaps you might assist me."

Mindfang's smirk disappeared and her eyebrow shot up as a server brought two pints. She and her sister exchanged a glance, picking up their glasses. She took a long swig and set it down. "Maybe, maybe not. It depends on what _information_ you're after."

"Well, as of yet I haven't been tasked to hunt down you or your kismesis."

Mindfang rolled her eyes. "I knew I shouldn't have told you about him."

"The Grand Highblood has assigned me to locate the cause of certain lowblooded murmurings against her and The Condesce. You're close with the lowbloods around here, aren't you?"

Her smirk returned. "In a manner of speaking."

"Perhaps you've heard something."

"Oh, just the general static of idiot lowbloods. Most of them are too dim to find their way out of their hive clusters. If I were you, I would tell The Grand Highboob she has nothing to worry about."

"If you were me and you told her that, you wouldn't be Commander of the E%ecutor Corps for much longer," he said, irritated at the casual way Mindfang referred to The Grand Highblood.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not you."

"She fears rebellion. Surely you understand her concern."

"Oh, that I do understand. She has just cause for concern. Between her and The Condesce, it's a wonder the lowbloods haven't risen against them already." Mindfang pushed her glass out of the way and leaned in dramatically, a faint smirk playing across her face. She was _amused_. "Between the two of us, I don't think it'll be much longer, anyway. All it'll take is the tiniest spark to ignite them in revolt, and then they'll be burning to cull the highbloods."

"And where does that leave you?" Equius pointed out. "Your blood looks pretty blue from where I sit."

Her smirk widened. "You must have forgotten. Understandable, considering it doesn't affect you, but..." She shrugged. "The lower castes are rather susceptible to our _abilities_ ," she said, gesturing between her and The Scorpion. "We can manipulate them easily. In fact, I daresay that we may be the bluest of bloods left if and when this little rebellion The Grand Highblood fears ends up coming to pass. And wouldn't that just be the damnedest thing? Darkleer and all his E%ecutors gone and no one to fear but Marquise Mindfang—that sounds pretty good to me."

Equius bristled, clenching his jaw. It was only through his innately polite nature that he was able to keep from hitting her. Besides, her words sounded dangerously close to caliginous flirting, and he had no inclinations that way (or flushed, for that matter) toward her. Punching her might be seen as his own way of black flirting. "Until the next clutch of eggs hatch and a new Grand Highblood wiggles out. Or a new fuchsia-blood."

Smirking still, Mindfang shook her head. "Dear, sweet, stupid Darkleer. You forget how defenseless wigglers are. A rust-blood, no matter how weak, can still cull a blue-blooded grub with ease, especially under Mindfang control." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "But, honestly, The Grand Highblood has no real cause for concern. The lowbloods are disorganized and just as casteist as we are. Don't you think that, with the blue-bloods gone, they'll establish their own blood caste hierarchy? And then who decides who rules them? The olive-bloods? The jade-bloods? Hell, each caste want that power for themselves, and their rebellion will turn in on itself and cull them all. At least until, as you said, the next clutch of eggs hatch and the caste system restores itself. Isn't our species amazing?"

"I hadn't given it much thought," Equius said darkly.

"No, but think about it. The last one of us could die, and as long as the Mother Grub had a clutch of eggs already fertilized, our species will renew, reawaken. Our societies may vanish, but the one constant will be our caste system. It's in place for a reason. Because it _works_. It has been proven over how many thousands of sweeps? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Maybe more. Every caste has its place—"

"And what's your place? Making a nuisance of yourself?"

"Please, Darkleer. I've rebelled a little from my place, true enough, but only because I saw the opportunity. And guess what? That's the gift of my blood. Yours is your freakish strength and your need to be bossed around by the highbloods, but I'm fortunately free of that 'gift'."

Talking to Mindfang was always like this. She tended to ramble on—even The Scorpion looked bored by her exposition—so Darkleer cut to the heart of her speech. "So, if I'm to understand you correctly, you have heard these rumors of rebellion but are ignorant of their source."

Mindfang seemed to deflate slightly, a look of irritation crossing her face. "In so many words, yes."

"Very well." He stood up sharply. "If you can provide no assistance, it's time for me to leave. I have an investigation to conduct."

She cursed under her breath as he strode past them and out into the night, and he felt himself smiling. It wasn't often that he was able to best Mindfang, so when he did, he savored it.


	19. THE SIGNLESS III

  
_**The Signless**_ /center>

"A little while" turned into a half a sweep, and a half a sweep turned into two sweeps. There was something strangely liberating about living somewhere new, somewhere they could actually put down roots. No one knew him at first, but they learned—and he learned who could be trusted with the secret of his mutation.

Nepeta didn't care that he was a freak. From the moment they saw each other, he knew she wouldn't care. She had such a bright smile, such an amazing way of looking at things. She saw people for who they were inside—she and Meulon both. Even Kanaya had been surprised when the weeks passed and the Leijons didn't betray them, but then, after Porrim's death, she found it difficult to trust people. She trusted Nepeta and Meulon, though.

It was there, talking with the three of them—Kanaya and Nepeta and Meulon; Kankri was usually off playing with Pounce de Leon or some of the other children, and he was only four and a half to boot—that he truly learned where he stood. He realized that society was looking at all of them wrong. After all, people thought Meulon and Nepeta were strange for being brother and sister, but few spared a second thought for The Grand Highblood and her brother. He knew of those in lower castes who had amazing abilities, and wondered why they weren't considered freaks. Why had society deemed them "normal" and him "mutant"? Because of his bright-red blood, a fact that wasn't immediately noticeable, he was forced to fear for his life. It didn't make any sense.

And he saw the way the blue-blooded Defenders and the others in the higher castes treated those they deemed "lesser." The Leijons were snugly in the range of "midbloods," those who weren't low but weren't high, either, a middle group who somehow found ire from both lowbloods and highbloods. Karkat saw the abuse they all went through, and he knew it was wrong. No one had chosen what blood color they would be hatched with—he certainly didn't recall choosing his bright-red blood—so what sin had they committed? Their mere _existence_ was a sin. But wasn't a sin, by definition, a choice? What choice had they then made? None. Didn't they all—safely in the blood castes or not, like himself and Kankri—deserve to be treated equally?

When he mentioned all this to the other three, he was surprised to discover they agreed with him. He somehow suspected Kanaya would—she had raised him, after all, knowing full well what his blood meant, both for her and for him—and he had hoped that Nepeta and Meulon would as well, but discovering that they actually did was incredible. It was a relief to discover that Nepeta especially shared his views.

She was... well, even after two sweeps, he still wasn't quite sure _what_ she was to him except the single most important person to him (after Kanaya and Kankri, of course). She wasn't quite his matesprit because they had would often try to outdo each other in simple things (and she called him Kar _kitty_ despite knowing it irritated him), but she wasn't quite his kismesis because they spent far too many days lying awake together and whispering sweetly. It didn't really feel like quadrant vacillation, either, because he always had some strange mix of red and black feelings for her—and she for him. He couldn't put a name to what they had, but he knew how it felt. It felt _right_.

She stayed with him, something he'd thought was beyond his reach. He could tell that Kanaya was surprised as well, but not unpleasantly so. She'd probably worried that his mutation would keep him from having a normal life, and while his life certainly hadn't been average by any stretch of the imagination, he was glad to have this one aspect that was nearly universal. She was at his side constantly, reassuring him and encouraging him, and it was really through both her and Kanaya's influence that led to his more public discussions on the blood caste system.

Carefully dressing in grays and blacks to "disguise" his blood color (he supposed it was what was actually happening, but he did it mostly to keep himself essentially anonymous), he began frequenting the places where people gathered to talk and there, he listened. He listened until he'd gotten a good grasp of what these people thought, and only then did he stand up.

Recalling what John and Rose and Dave had told him about life on Earth (he still thought of them often, but he'd stayed true to his word and hadn't said a thing about their presence, not even to Kanaya), he said, "Imagine a world where everyone has the same blood color." And he waited.

As he expected, there was a consensus of confusion. He waited for the murmuring to die down before he went on. "Fantastical, I know, but let us imagine. How might such a society live, even thrive? Everyone would be equal. There would be no cause for dissension anywhere, because people would have far more in common. The person next to you—do they have the same color blood as you? Maybe, maybe not, but you can tell because of what color they wear." He took a moment to survey the people listening, and saw that the highest caste represented was of a blood color slightly higher than Nepeta's. No blue-bloods in attendance. It was fortunate, he figured, because he didn't know how well the lower castes would receive him—but if they hated him, there would be no doubt that the highbloods would hunt him down for this. "In this hypothetical world, though, you wouldn't have to even look to know that the person next to you _was_ your blood color—because they're all the same." The crowd shifted, and he realized he was explaining himself badly.

"My people," he started again, "I come before you _not_ to advocate a race of one solitary blood color, but a race where blood color doesn't dictate your fate. You," he said, pointing to a man dressed in a dark reddish-orange, redder than rust but browner than the dark-red of the peasantry. "Sir, did you choose your blood color?"

The man shook his head.

"No, of course you didn't." He went around, asking several others the same question, and they all responded in kind that no, they hadn't chosen their blood color. "This is my point. The highbloods look down on those of us in the lower castes, but why? Because we were born lower on the hemospectrum? And whose fault is that? Our ancestors? Perhaps, but it's not yours, and it's not mine. Why treat us like sinners when we have committed no sin? Is our existence such an insult to the highbloods that they send their so-called 'Defenders' to terrorize us, to keep us submissive, to keep us in check? And for what? They forget that, should we cease to exist, there would be no one to keep in check. Without the ruled, there can be no rulers. Without the rulers, there can be no ruled."

More murmuring was starting to break out in the crowd, but it wasn't confused. No, this sounded like _agreement_. They were accepting what he had to say.

"We do not deserve the abuse they inflict. We deserve to be treated equally. We _are_ equal. We are just as strong as they are, and it is their fear that leads them to oppress us. We must work to overcome this, or else our descendants may undergo worse at the hands of their highbloods." He paused for a moment, half-bowed, and said, "I leave you to consider that." Then he quickly walked away, his heart pounding with raw nerves and excitement. The babble in the crowd drummed up again, even louder than before he'd spoken, and Nepeta trailed after him quickly, giggling excitedly.

"That was _purr_ fect!" she gushed, but before she could go on, a voice called after them.

"Wait! Hang on!"

Karkat turned, immediately on the alert, to face the person approaching. He relaxed slightly when he realized that the young man flagging him down was about his age—maybe half a sweep younger at the most—and that, perhaps, he was coming with questions. "Yes?" he asked. He took a brief note of the young man's clothes—dark pants with a yellow color on his shirt, and the glasses he wore had lenses of two different colors.

"I... Well, actually, I didn't really think you'd talk to me," the stranger said apologetically.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. The people who talk up there aren't very friendly."

"I don't know that I would consider myself _friendly_ ," Karkat admitted with a wry grin, "but I'm willing to answer any questions you have."

"Great. Well, you really look to have a good handle on the whole blood color thing. How did that come about?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about it and form my opinions. It's been a fairly important aspect of my entire life."

The stranger nodded to himself. "What about... well, I know of definitely one blood color that can create a power. I think there are more."

Karkat furrowed his brow. "I'm not following anymore."

"Mine," he said quietly. All at once, crackles of red and blue energy erupted from his fingertips, and several rocks began floating in the air. "I can do more," he added, "but I think you get the idea."

"That's... that's incredible."

"Thank you. I really wondered though if you knew of any... well, mutants, I guess," he said. It was the first time he'd ever used an _S_ , and now Karkat could tell why. The stranger had a lisp. But now that he'd revealed it, he seemed more comfortable continuing.

"Mutants?" He tried to fight back the panic. "What do you mean?"

"My brother," the stranger said. "He and I... we hatched from the same egg. That's not normal. And our powers. We're freaks, basically. And then there's our eyes." He slid his glasses, one lens tinted red and the other tinted blue, slightly down the bridge of his nose to reveal that his eyes matched his glasses—one red, one blue. There was no pupil. His eyes were solidly colored. "We're pretty sure we mutated somehow, so I was wondering... your worldview of an Alternia where everyone is equal, does that include us, too?"

"It has to."

"It does?"

Karkat nodded. "I'm a mutant as well."

The stranger blinked, visibly surprised as he looked over Karkat, trying to guess. "How?"

"My blood is bright red."

His expression was unreadable for a few moments until he nodded. Karkat couldn't be sure, but he thought the stranger looked sad. "And I thought _I_ had it bad. The culling drones have been after you your whole life, haven't they?"

Karkat nodded. "Which is why I dress like this—to hide it. Everyone wears their blood color on their sleeve except me."

"So what do they call you?"

"The Signless. Obviously, because of my mutant blood color, I don't have a sign. What about you?"

"Blueglow. My brother is called Redshine, but he had other things to do today. Together, they call us The **Ψ** iioniix."

"Will you be coming back here to listen the next time I speak, Blueglow?"

Blueglow nodded. "And I'm going to try to bring my brother next time. I think he'd benefit from it, too. It's been hard for us to get behind a system that wants to to cull people for something they can't help."

"Especially when you'd be on the receiving end of that culling." He was reminded of Porrim and the brutal way she died. None of it had ever been fair, but he wondered what would be different if she were still here. Her culling had awoken an anger inside him, something he kept hidden, but without her death, he wasn't sure he would have made the decision to speak today, let alone really think about the real reason he and Kankri and Kanaya had been forced to flee. "I look forward to seeing you again, and your brother."

Blueglow nodded again, smiling faintly. "Thank you. It's a relief that someone on this planet is starting to think for themselves." With a respectful inclination of his head toward Nepeta, Blueglow turned and, using the powers he'd demonstrated earlier, actually, literally flew away.

"That's incredible," Karkat murmured.

"He's going to be quite an ally. Wait and see," Nepeta said cheerfully. "Come on, Kanaya is waiting _fur_ us! I'm sure she wants to hear all about how it went!"


	20. NEOPHYTE REDGLARE II

_**Neophyte Redglare** _

Latula couldn't know where she was going. It was of utmost importance that she be discreet—and if there was one thing she could do, it was remain unseen.

Fortunately for Terezi, Latula was out with Pyralspite, so it was fairly easy for her to slip out of the hive unnoticed. All she had to do was flip her teal cloak inside-out so only the black lining showed, and she was able to blend in with the rest of the crowd. Her glasses might have given her away as a Redglare (both Judicate and Neophyte Redglare were becoming fairly well-known), but with the hood of her cloak pulled low, she was able to avoid detection.

She'd heard the lowbloods whispering to each other of something called equality. The term itself wasn't alien to her—she knew exactly what it meant. But they meant equality up and down the hemospectrum, a society free from culling. Terezi remained silent on the issue, but considering she had to hide her blindness lest she be culled, she had a particular interest in the matter.

There were a few people now, she'd heard, who were teaching these social theories, but the first and by far the most knowledgeable was a mysterious young man, barely nine sweeps old, who was called The Signless for the way he carefully hid his blood color and his sign. Terezi could appreciate the gesture—there would be no way to pin him to one particular caste. He was the "average" person, speaking from the masses. It was clever.

It was one of his lectures that she sought to attend. She wanted to hear firsthand what he believed, which was another reason why hiding her own blood color was so important. If anyone recognized her, they would be immediately suspicious. She smiled to think that she might be the highest person on the hemospectrum to attend, but it also worried her. There might be those lowbloods who wouldn't think twice about culling anyone with even a hint of blue in their blood. It would obviously be at-odds with the society they wished to create, but she didn't doubt there were a few there who thought a few blue-bloods could be easily sacrificed for the greater good.

When she arrived, she saw that she wasn't the only one who deigned to hide their blood color. That seemed to be the theme here—more than half of the attendees wore carefully-chosen blacks and grays, although a few had tiny concessions to their blood color in the form of their sign and color as a belt buckle or a cloak fastener or even just the barest amounts of trim in the color of their blood. Others let their blood color show freely—some of the lowest, rust-bloods and mustard-bloods and the peasantry—and she imagined that they were held in a higher regard here as recompense for the respect they were denied outside these walls. Despite being surrounded by the lowest of the low, she felt strangely comfortable. It was odd.

And then he appeared. She could smell him approaching. Everyone seemed to know who he was. He came from the back and the mob parted to let him pass, his hood drawn over his face and a woman slightly older than him following after him. She was dressed entirely in black with the exception of a ring of color around her collar, an olive-green that was undoubtedly her blood color, but as they passed by her, she smelled something unique—fruity, but a scent she'd never smelled before. Was The Signless a highblood? "That's The Disciple with him," Terezi heard someone whisper behind her. "She's his closest believer."

"What about The Dolorosa?" someone else asked, just as quietly.

"Aside from The Dolorosa," the first person conceded.

Terezi couldn't sense the faces of The Signless and The Disciple until they got to the front of the crowd and took their places on a raised dais, and then the one called The Signless lowered his hood, surveying those gathered.

The Signless smiled. "Every time I speak, I see more people have come to listen. That gives me hope."

Terezi felt herself smiling, too. She was eleven and a half, only two and a half sweeps older than him, but he seemed just as quietly confident in his public speaking as she was. It had taken her almost a sweep to get used to it until she got her rhythm of motion down, allowing her to fool anyone she spoke to into believing she was sighted. Latula still worried about her, but less and less often.

"I know that the common belief is that there is no hint any sort of anomalies, genetic or otherwise, anywhere in our race, and I must admit that, when I first started speaking to you all a sweep ago, I was of the same belief.

"But this is wrong. To my surprise, I've learned that there are far more of us who are unusual than I thought. After almost every time I speak, people stop me and confess that they're different from those around them—some more so than others. Blueglow?"

At The Signless's words, a young man dressed in gray aside from his sign in yellow across his chest came to the front. He also wore strange glasses with one lens tinted red and the other tinted blue. There was a moment or two when nothing happened, and then he began floating, red and blue energy crackling along his skin. And then, just as gently, he lowered himself back to the ground and slid back into the crowd.

"Blueglow has a brother called Redshine, who is not with us at the moment. I have met him myself, though, and can confirm that they share the same powers. Even more unusual with them, however, is the fact that they hatched out of the same egg. Both brothers remember this clearly. So there is one example that there are strange forces at work in our world, forces we cannot see."

Terezi was momentarily distracted as a latecomer slipped in, murmuring a quick, "Sorry." She turned to look at him and caught a whiff of something vaguely fruity.

Her heart stopped and she quickly whipped back around, eyes widening behind her glasses. There was a highblood here, a smell she recognized, and not just a regular blue-blood. Someone higher than that. She didn't know why, but she was immediately nervous.

"And what about The Grand Highblood? Is it not incredibly unusual for a female to have a brother? And yet no one thinks twice about it. In fact, The Disciple here has a brother of her own—The Follower," he added, gesturing toward the back. A male bedecked in the same olive-green as The Disciple gave them all a friendly wave.

"I'm sure there's more, though—more people with secrets they can't reveal for fear of being culled, when their only crime is merely existed. I say, that's not enough. That's not enough of a reason to warrant death.

"And it's not just those of us who are grown who must sometimes live with this terror. There are children who are forced to hide themselves, knowing that one day it might not matter how well they've hidden because they're just going to end up culled anyway. It's not fair for anyone to live that way, especially when they've done nothing wrong. I remember being six and having no lusus, and my brother and I were forced to run for a sweep and a half with The Dolorosa before we finally found a home. I know that terror. I remember surviving on hope and hopbeasts, wondering if that night would be our last. I remember not having enough to eat, going nights without food because there wasn't enough. I remember learning how to survive, and I know that it's something no one should experience."

Terezi felt tears stinging her eyes. Of course she'd known that orphans were culled, but she had barely spared it a thought until now. It was always considered a mercy to cull orphans, but she hadn't stopped to consider the fact that children were culled just because their lusus had died. Those children would no doubt be terrified already, and then to realize they now had to fear culling on top of it... But The Signless and his brother had survived. It was a good thing they had, too.

"And I remember the kindness of strangers. I remember two people who took us in and cared for us and kept us safe. It's thanks to them that I'm here today. And so I know that there are people out there who feel the same way I do—that our society is flawed for culling the weak."

She was glad she'd come. She'd found her place. She was a legislacerator deep into her core, but her blindness separated her from the rest of society. Here, she would not be an outcast. Here, she would be accepted. Here was where she belonged.

Part of her wanted to stay and speak to The Signless after he finished, but he was quickly swarmed with people and Terezi had to be heading back to her hive. She'd been gone for awhile—she didn't doubt that Latula had noticed her absence.

After a beat of indecision, she absconded.

* * *

"You've been gone for awhile," Latula commented coolly as Terezi reentered their hive. The younger Pyrope froze, recognizing the irritation in her sister's tone. "And you've somehow managed to flip your cloak inside-out. That's not like you at all," she added.

 _Shit._ She'd intended to turn it the right way out before she returned, but it had slipped her mind. Before she could open her mouth to try to explain, Latula was continuing.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain lecture being held not to far from here, would it? I've heard of The Signless, but I didn't expect anything he said to interest _you_."

Terezi swallowed but squared her shoulders. "Why not? I'm blind, in case you didn't remember. He advocates kinder treatment of those like me."

"'Like you'—what the fuck do you mean by that?"

"Undesirables," Terezi shot back. "Those of us too weak to survive on our own."

"But you're not," Latula countered. "You've demonstrated that you can survive, you can _flourish_ , on your own."

"True, but if anyone else found out I was blind, I would be culled anyway."

"That's why you don't let them find out!" Latula was on her feet, stalking closer, and Terezi suddenly felt four again. She forced herself to remain perfectly still and not appear intimidated. "You've done pretty well so far, so what difference does it make? Huh? Are you _trying_ to get caught up in this lowblood rebellion talk? The E%ecutors are investigating, and it's only a matter of time before one of them finds out where The Signless is. I can pretty much guarantee that every one of his followers will either flee or die alongside him, and this little rebellion will be over."

"You underestimate them," Terezi said quietly.

"I _worry_ about _you_! When they find The Signless and his followers, if you're found with them, you'll be culled too, and wouldn't that be ironic? The blind girl hides her disability all her life and ends up culled for mixing with lowbloods and _mutants_!" She spat the word like poison, but Terezi wasn't confused. She hadn't smelled any mutants—and then she remembered that distinctly fruity smell that she hadn't been able to place, the one that she'd thought was high-blooded. No, it was _red_ , bright, cherry, candy-red. The Signless was the mutant.

It suddenly made more sense. _That_ was why he hid his blood color. _That_ was why he was called The Signless—because he really didn't have a sign. That was why he didn't have a lusus, either.

Her first instinct was disgust, but she reminded herself that he couldn't help the way he was hatched, and besides, she'd actually liked the smell of his blood. Now, at least, she knew why. And it didn't change anything—The Signless was still right.

"Wouldn't it be _more_ ironic if the blind girl who mixed with lowbloods and mutants outlived her sighted, casteist sister?" Terezi snapped. Without waiting for an answer, she turned and stomped toward her respiteblock, making sure to slam the portal behind her.


	21. THE HANDMAID III / THE ENGINEER

_**The Handmaid** _

She had her orders. Even if she didn't want to follow them, she had no choice.

She didn't want to face either of the Zahhaks, truth be told. This wouldn't be as difficult as meeting Equius, but he and Horuss still had such a striking resemblance—in both appearance and mannerisms—that she knew this wouldn't be easy.

Besides, she'd been watching them closely. She'd been watching them all, and no matter how her heart broke for them, she knew it couldn't be helped. There was no choice for any of them. She knew what would happen if she failed, and she knew that she couldn't—she _wouldn't—_ fail. But Horuss was so adamantly opposed to doing what she was about to tell him to do that convincing him would surely break something inside him.

_This is all there is_ , she told herself as she appeared outside of the Zahhaks' hive. She wished she had the luxury of saying no, but she didn't. None of them did.

She entered the hive and peered around. There was no movement in any of the corners, and for a moment, she was puzzled. She couldn't have arrived on the wrong day... could she? But then she heard a faint whirring coming from beneath her feet. _Right._ They had a shop in the subterranean level of their hive. Horuss was known as The Engineer, after all. If he was to be found anywhere, it would be there.

She descended, gliding to keep from making a sound. Their lusus, that musclebeast, could be anywhere, but Aradia knew how old he was. He wouldn't be able to sneak up on her, not at his age. She wondered how much longer he'd be alive, how Equius and Horuss would mourn for him.

Horuss was against the far wall, his back to her. His hair was tied back and his horns stood out prominently. They were, after all, identical to Equius's—whatever had happened to him before hadn't happened now, and Equius's horns remained unbroken. It was fortunate, really, because horns were extremely sensitive and breaking them was excruciating. She didn't know what had caused Equius's horn to break, but perhaps he would fare better this time.

"Engineer," she said.

He didn't turn around, and Aradia realized the grinding of his machine—it looked like some kind of saw—was drowning her out. She sighed softly and held out her hand, and the saw whined to a stop.

"What?" Horuss muttered. "What the...? Curses."

"Engineer," she said again.

This time, he heard her. He spun around in his seat, his lips pursed and his nostrils flaring in anger. She didn't blame him, really. She _did_ have a habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. "Who are you?" he demanded, standing up. "How did you get in here?" He pulled off his gloves but fortunately keeping his goggles on. She didn't want to look him in the eye.

"I am called The Handmaid," she said, tilting her head to one side. "I am the keeper of a timeline, the maintainer of events as they are required to happen. As for how I got in here... I walked," she said simply, shrugging. "It wasn't difficult. Your lusus... Aurthour, correct? The musclebeast? He's getting up there in sweeps. He's not so strong as he used to be."

"He's plenty strong," Horuss said, but the anger was draining out of him.

"Not anymore... Horuss Zahhak," she added quietly.

"How... how do you know my name?"

"Your name is the least of what I know about you, Engineer. I have been watching you your whole life. Fourteen and a half sweeps, I've watched you, Horuss. Twenty and a half sweeps I've watched your brother Equius, too."

Horuss's eyes narrowed. "You're twelve, if that. How could you have watched us?"

"I have lived far more sweeps than you can comprehend. Don't let my apparent age fool you."

For a few moments, Horuss was still. Then, fingers trembling slightly, he pulled his goggles to the top of his head to finally look at her. She saw now that there was a thin layer of dust on his skin, leaving a clean patch where his goggles had been. It made his eyes look wider. "What did you mean by 'events as they are required to happen'?" he asked quietly.

"I am not at liberty to discuss my tasks with you. Suffice it to say that nothing that has happened to you up to this point has been random or mere chance. You and others will shape the future. Everything has been guiding you toward this. I'm only here to provide another push."

"A push to what?"

Aradia held out her hand at her side, summoned a chair from another workbench ( _Probably Equius's chair_ , she told herself), and sat down. "Your greatest glory."

"I don't understand. Am I not—?"

"No, Horuss. Your current life's path will lead you to nothing but ruin." She was lying again, but this was for the greater good. There was no choice. "You may be happy for a brief time longer, but ultimately, this will yield only heartache and despair. There is another choice for you, though."

Horuss sat down slowly, looking at her numbly. It looked like he'd just received a terrible blow—and he had, of course. His automatons were his life's ambition, his true passion. If he could not pursue them, what was left for him? "And what choice is that?" he asked dully.

This wouldn't do. Aradia had to fix this. He wasn't in an emotionally-receptive state. She had to figure out some way to bring him around before she gave him his new goal. "Your brother Equius. You love him, don't you?"

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "Of course I do."

"You must be very proud of him. Under direct service of The Grand Highblood herself, in charge of the entire E%ecutor Corps at such a young age."

"It has been the greatest of honors to have him as my brother."

"And you would do anything to make him proud of you, wouldn't you?"

Realization flickered behind his eyes. "You want me to join the E%ecutor Corps as well, don't you?"

"You _are_ a bit older than the usual recruits, it is true. But they will take you. You are strong, and you are the Commander's brother. They will have no choice." She crossed the block to look directly at him. "Do it. Prove yourself worthy. Follow orders. Remain faithful and loyal, and I promise you that joy and honor and glory will follow."

"And Equius?"

"He will be most proud of you."

Horuss blinked up at her for a few moments longer before he finally, slowly, nodded. "I understand. I will... I will do it."

She cupped his cheek. "Good." She let it linger there for a moment before straightening up and turning around, heading back out.

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I?" he called after her.

She paused. It would be easy to lie, but for once, she couldn't do it. "No, Horuss. Not really."

* * *

_**The Engineer** _

He waited until he was sure The Handmaid was gone before he called for Aurthour. She was right about his lusus—he definitely wasn't as strong as he used to be. Still, Horuss would need his help.

"Equius will be back soon. He's always wanted me to join the E%ecutor Corps like him, but I plan to be gone before he returns. Can you tell him for me? Tell him where I went and why. Tell him I miss him but I'll see him soon."

The lusus nodded. "I will tell him."

"Thank you." He looked carefully at the robot he'd been crafting and sighed. Useless wiggler pastime, it was. She was right about that, too. It wouldn't lead to any sort of future he wanted a part in. Equius had let him play with his toys and call himself The Engineer for so long—why he'd put up with it, Horuss didn't know, but it was time to put it aside.

He would miss it, of course. He was good at it. In fact, it was the one thing he had a true talent for. But it wouldn't help him in the long run. It was time to grow up and realize his true destiny, the one that Equius had been silently pushing him toward for nearly eight sweeps now.

He packed slowly and methodically, but lightly. He wouldn't need much—the training compound wasn't far away, after all, and once he arrived there, they would issue him new clothing for training. He would ship his normal clothing back to the hive and he would train in preparation to be one of the best E%ecutors they'd ever seen. He didn't think he would be as good as Equius, of course, but if he came close, he would count himself lucky. Maybe his brother would be truly proud of him then.

He could work his way up, become one of Equius's trusted lieutenants. It would be a hard life, brutal and short, but he could make it work. He could become someone Equius would respect. Besides, Horuss had spent most of his life within the walls of his hive. He'd been sheltered for so long—it would be beneficial for him to explore other ventures.

And all he'd ever really wanted in life was to make Equius proud of him. He had hoped there would be some other way besides joining the E%ecutors, but if this really was his only choice, then he would do it. He was ready now. He felt it.

Once he packed a rucksack, he went back down to the workshop to organize the clutter that tended to accumulate whenever he worked. Equius's area was neat and orderly, of course, with two of his reinforced bows hanging from the wall and the whetstone clean. It had been a long time since he'd seen Equius, and though that thought filled him with sadness (as did the thought that Equius might descend to the subterranean level in search of him only to find him gone before Aurthour could explain), but he swallowed it and went to his own workbench.

He began disassembling his robot piece by piece, and returned the metal casing to his scrap bin next to the bench. Part of him mourned what might have been a brilliant, fully-functioning automaton, but he hadn't yet managed to program every action he wanted to build into one of them yet. Their range of motion was still off. This time wouldn't have been any different, either. Perhaps with both of them—he _and_ Equius—working on it, he might have had a chance, but this, right now, was just so much scrap.

The circuitry had been hand-soldered. He remembered the time and patience he put into it, how many days he'd sat there and soldered until his eyes were dry and his hands ached and his stomach growled from hunger, making him acutely aware of how much time had passed. It was intensive, exhaustive work, and yet, he'd done it willingly, because he found it fun.

"Wiggler nonsense," he murmured to the cluster of bare wires and solder beads. He took a hammer and smashed the circuit boards into dust.

How could he ever think there would be a place for him outside the E%ecutor Corps? The Grand Highblood and The Condesce would have use for him, to be sure, but they didn't need inventors and robot-makers. They needed Defenders and E%ecutors, warriors. They wanted destroyers, not creators. It had taken him so long to see it, but now he _did_ see. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he said into the quiet, imagining he could speak to Equius right now.

He wished he could. He just wanted that one last bit of reassurance that what he was doing was the right thing... But he was. This was what Equius had wanted from him for sweeps. "I will make you proud."

He ascended to the main floor of the hive and retrieved his rucksack from next to the entrance portal. "Goodbye, Aurthour," he said solemnly, patting his lusus as gently as he could. Aurthour bruised all the same, but nodded.

"The best of luck to you."

"Thank you. Tell Equius I love him."

"I will. Take care of yourself."

Horuss left, following a new path to a different destiny.


	22. MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG

_**Marquise Spinneret Mindfang** _

"Aranea."

At the sound of her name, she looked up from the map she'd been perusing. All over it were bright-red _X_ s where her search for the Fluorite Octet had yielded nothing. There were only a few rumored locations left, and she was running out of time before someone else found the Octet first. "What?" she snapped, fixing her sister with a cold glare.

Vriska either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. "The chum-bucket is here," she said, her voice heavy with disdain.

Aranea's mood brightened a bit at that news, but her glare at Vriska deepened as she stood up. "Don't call him that."

"Just because he's _your_ kismesis doesn't mean I can't find the annoying twat repulsive," Vriska shot back.

"Maybe if you found a kismesis of your own—" Aranea started, but Vriska scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Like there's anyone who's even _remotely_ equal to me. It wouldn't be any kind of real kismesissitude at all."

" _Someone's_ pretty full of herself." Aranea had hoped, however briefly, that Dualscar would bring his younger brother along one of these days so The Eleventh and Vriska could meet. Though she hadn't met The Eleventh, either, she imagined there would be a fair bit of black chemistry between the two, considering she and Orphaner still had a strong kismesissitude after eight sweeps now. As of yet, though, Cronus had yet to even hint about bringing his brother.

"It's not bragging if it's true," Vriska said coolly. "He's midships, unless the douche-fin moved," she added, retreating away from Cronus's alleged direction.

Aranea nearly called after her to chastise her, but Vriska was twelve and a half. She could be as bitchy as she wanted to be. Aranea just shook her head and went out to the weather decks.

There was a faint wind blowing through the sails of the _Blackweb_ and the moon was high, giving off more than enough light to navigate by. She heard water dripping to the deck and followed the sound until she caught sight of Cronus with his back to her, hanging his sopping-wet cape from a post. Ahab's Crosshairs rested near him, propped up against a bulkhead.

She unbuttoned her coat and dropped it silently to the deck. The buttons had a tendency to clack together and might alert Dualscar to her approach. As he wrung out his cape, she slowly eased her feet out of her boots and set them next to her coat. She wasn't worried about splinters in her feet—the wooden deck was too well-worn for that.

She gripped the hilt of her sword and crept out from where she hid, approaching carefully. Ahab's Crosshairs was only a few feet away now and he still hadn't noticed her—all she needed to do was take three more steps and—

There was the blade of a sword at her throat before she could blink next. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Cronus drawled.

She slowly turned her head until she could look at him. "If you were me, then I'd be you. And if I were you, I'd let me have what I wanted."

A smirk slid across his face. "Are you insinuatin' that I haven't given you want you wanted?"

"Not everything."

Still keeping his sword to her neck, he crouched down just far enough to pick up Ahab's Crosshairs with his left hand and push it further away from her. "Then I guess there's just some things I keep to myself."

"I _will_ have your Crosshairs," Aranea said conversationally. "Bet on it."

"I'll bet on you havin' to pry it out a' Orphaner Dualscar's cold, dead fingers before you get your filthy landdwellin' hands on it."

"So be it." She glanced at his sword and then back into his eyes. "You and I both know you aren't going to use that thing properly, so you might as well put it away."

Cronus's smirk deepened, but he didn't sheathe his sword. "God, I missed you."

"It's been far too long."

"Half a sweep, I think?"

"Nearly three-quarters. What kept you away?"

"Wigglers don't train themselves."

"He's twelve and a half."

"Same thing to a seadweller."

"Cronus."

"I'm being serious for once. I was with my brother the whole time."

"The whole time?" Aranea asked, raising her eyebrows. Had he really not done _anything_ to search for the Fluorite Octet? Was she in this on her own?

"A' course. I told you before—you're all the kismesis I can handle."

"I couldn't care less about your fidelity or lack thereof, Cronus. Have you forgotten what I've spent the last sixteen sweeps searching for?"

"Right to business, then?" he asked, almost looking disappointed. "A' course it's about the damn Octet." He moved his sword from her neck and finally started to slide it back into its sheath.

Quick as a flash, she withdrew her own sword and pressed it to the side of _his_ neck. "Well," she said lightly, "I suppose we could play first."

Orphaner smirked, his own blade reappearing. "That's more like it. It really _has_ been too long since we saw each other."

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Dualscar," she reminded him, taking two careful steps back and getting into her stance. "I trust you left your brother well?"

His own boots slid along the deck as he found his footing, and part of her wished she hadn't removed hers. "Well enough, Marquise."

She held her sword out. "I thought you would have brought him along by now. The Scorpion has been anxious to meet him."

He raised his blade to meet hers. "One a' me is bad enough. Now you want another." There was the barest hint of a smile playing across his face.

"He's not _that_ much like you, is he?"

"His hair's a bit different," Cronus admitted. "Aside from that, there's barely a difference between us."

"Then she should wax nothing but outright pitch for him." She grinned suddenly and lunged.

He countered her blow easily—as she expected; she was hardly using all her wits against him, this was mere foreplay—and knocked her sword to the side. "I was under the impression that your sister was a' more of a _flushed_ sort a' persuasion."

She rolled her eyes, kicking at him. "You heard about that, then."

He twisted to avoid it and swept his sword toward her. "I think everyone has."

"Well..." She parried and countered, aiming for his thigh. "I think the right kismesis might just change her mind."

He took a step back, but a second too late—her strike bit into his skin, spilling a few drops of violet blood to the deck. "Nice one. An' you think my brother might be the right kismesis for her?" He swung wide, his blade whistling toward her chest.

She dodged it, of course. "Look at the facts, Cronus. It's all genetics. Your brother, my sister." Their blades made a good, solid _clang_ as they collided, the sound echoing to the decks below.

"I admit, Aranea, it's got a fair bit a' symmetry," he admitted. He winced slightly as he stepped back too hard with his left leg, the one she'd managed to nick. Maybe she'd hit him harder than she thought.

She lunged again. "Why am I sensing a 'but' coming on?"

He parried and slipped to the side. "But I'm not sure about him."

"And why is that?" She punctuated her question with a sharp jab, but he dodged just in time.

"It's complicated."

"Why is it _always_ so damn complicated with you seadwellers?"

He spared half a second to grin before his blade sliced through the air. "We're just complicated, all collapsin' an' expandin' bladder-based aquatic vascular systems."

She leaned back to avoid his sword, and instead, it hit one of the beams. "You have a real way with words, Cronus," she said, making a face. "And try _not_ to hit the mast. I don't have time to repair her right now."

"Other matters to attend to?" Dualscar joked, wrenching his sword free.

"Something of the sort. A certain Octet I've been meaning to get my filthy, landdwelling hands on."

"Oh, please." He met her next swing easily and stepped back to aim one of his own at her. "You don't _really_ wanna find the Octet, do you?"

She spun on one toe and knocked his sword to the side. "Of course I do. And why wouldn't I?"

"It's what brought us together," he said, like it was obvious. "If you find it, what about me?"

She rolled her eyes, swinging at his arm. He couldn't parry it away in time, but she had expected it and rotated her blade so the flat of it smacked his arm instead of the sharp edge. "You think that just because I find the Octet, I won't want you to be my kismesis anymore? You're so pathetic, it's almost romantic." She lightly tapped the flat of her sword to the side of his head. "And stop letting me beat you."

"You wanna see me at full power?" he asked, stepping back and swinging his sword in a wide arc.

"Unless you're afraid of getting beat by a landdweller," she challenged.

"I knew there was a reason I hated you," he said with a grin. Without further warning, he leaped forward, slashing brutally at her solar plexus, and for one full second, she was sure he'd missed her completely.

And then the pain set in.

She gasped and doubled over, her hat falling off and her grip on her sword slackening until it fell out of her hand and clattered to the deck. Her whole chest was on fire—this wasn't supposed to happen. From somewhere far away, she thought she heard him whisper, "Oh, my God," but there was a roaring in her ears and two dull points of pain where her knees gave way and hit the deck.

Then arms were around her and she was staring at the sky, his face above hers. He was ashen and his face was smeared with something cerulean blue and dripping, dripping down to his clothes. "This v-wasn't supposed to happen," he breathed, his stupid seadweller accent coloring his words. "Aranea... you v-weren't..."

She was cold. She was freezing. Every breath she took hurt. Every motion was agony. Something was spreading beneath her, pooling at her back, radiating to legs, her arms, her neck. Her skin was wet—sea water, she thought, but then she remembered that it didn't make sense. She shuddered as Cronus's hand—it was hot on her skin, burning, but she always remembered his hands as cold—finally left her cheek and came away dripping with more of that cerulean, and she realized. It was her blood. She was bleeding out here on the deck. With all the rage she could summon, she wheezed, "Cronus... what have you done?"

He recoiled as if she'd struck him, backing away on his knees with his blood-covered hand over his mouth. He was trembling, she could see him shaking from here, even dying.

She knew she was dying. He'd killed her. He knew it, too. _Run, you sea-dwelling bastard_ , she thought as he scrambled to stand and retrieve his weapons—his sword, Ahab's Crosshairs—and his cape. _You may have killed one Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, but you won't kill two._ Hatred bubbled up inside her, replacing the blood she'd lost, but it wasn't the erotic kind of hate one had for their kismesis. It was full-bodied, animalistic, murderous rage.

_COWARD!_ she wanted to scream at him as he jumped over the side and into the sea. He'd just left her here to die alone, no one at her side—

"Aranea!"

_Vriska._ The Scorpion's boots pounded the deck as she charged toward Aranea and dropped.

"No, no, no, no," Vriska murmured, her eyes already swimming with tears as she looked her over. "That bastard."

Aranea was finally able to summon her voice. "Vriska, you have to..." She closed her eyes and inhaled. Her lungs burned with the effort. "Cull him. Hunt Dualscar down to the ends... of the planet. Don't let him..." She wheezed and spat out a mouthful of blood. The deck around her would probably be permanently stained cerulean. "Escape Serket justice."

"I... I can't, Aranea, I don't know how—"

"Shut up." A half-grin twitched across her lips but it hurt too badly to keep it there for long. "Take my name. Take my ship. Marquise Mindfang will live on... with you. Cull him. Make him suffer for this." She grabbed Vriska's collar and dragged her down so their eyes locked. "Make him pay," she breathed.

And then Aranea's grip on her sister's shirt slackened. Her whole body went limp and her head fell back and she exhaled slowly, deeply. Vriska waited, her eyes on her sister's face. She waited for what seemed like hours, but the inhale she expected never came.

Marquise Mindfang was dead.


	23. THE ELEVENTH

_**The Eleventh** _

Eridan nearly dropped his sword, startled, when Cronus burst in, but he managed to shift it subtly from his left hand to his right. He still hadn't quite gotten the hang of transitioning to right-handed dominance. "Cro, what's—" Then he froze and really took in everything about his brother—specifically, the cerulean-blue stains on his clothes. It looked like blood, but it couldn't be—that was The Marquise's blood color and they never drew that much blood, it was so much, it looked like there had been more, like this was just the remains of it. But when he looked closer at the wild look in Cronus's eyes, the way he'd just dropped Ahab's Crosshairs when he came in, how pale his brother looked, he just knew that something bad had happened. He had a suspicion already, but he wouldn't believe it until Cronus confirmed it.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, not daring to look away from him as though if he did, Cronus would dash away.

His brother closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around Eridan in a tight embrace. Eridan was surprised to realize he'd grown since Cronus's departure—they were so nearly the same height now that it was hard to say who was taller. Then Cronus let out a faint, choked sob, and, still clinging to Eridan as though he were an anchor in a gale, whimpered, "I culled her."

Eridan was rendered speechless. Culling your kismesis was one of the worst sort of societal betrayals. He nearly shoved Cronus away in disgust, but he suppressed the urge. It had clearly been an accident, and this was his brother, after all. Cronus was visibly devastated. "I didn't..." His voice broke for a second. "I didn't mean to. We were just fightin', an' my sword... I... it slipped..."

"Okay. Okay, breathe," Eridan heard himself say, finally setting down his sword and rubbing Cronus's back. "Come on, let's get you to the ablution trap, get you cleaned up, an' we'll—"

Cronus twisted out of his grip. He still looked half-crazed, but beneath it lurked an unyielding determination—to what end, Eridan couldn't tell. "No. Eridan, I can't."

"But..." A horrible thought occurred to him, terrifying him. Cronus had culled his kismesis, but he didn't deserve... "No. You just need to sleep it off or somethin', you'll be fine, no one's gonna come after you for cullin' her." He knew he was babbling, but it was all he could do to keep that horrific notion out of his head. Besides, normally the legislacerators were all about punishing people who culled their kismesis, but this was Marquise Mindfang they were discussing, the Scourge of the Seas, enemy to Her Imperious Condescension. If anything, Cronus would be pardoned by The Condesce herself.

But Cronus just shook his head, smiling sadly. "No. Listen to me. You can do it. You _have_ to do it. I can't anymore. I fucked up big time, an' I'd rather it was you than The Scorpion, 'cause fuck knows she's gonna come after me for cullin' her sister an' she's gonna wanna drag it out. You an' I both know I don't got it in me to run for long, so... I want it to be you."

Eridan couldn't breathe. It felt like he was choking or like he was a drowning land-dweller. He knew what Cronus was asking of him, but he also knew he couldn't possibly do it. He finally swallowed around the lump in his throat. "You think _you_ can't do it? What makes you think _I_ can?"

"You're stronger than me. That's the way I raised you, though. Look at you—you're already a better marksman now than I was at your age. You can do this."

"But what the fuck am I supposed to tell people? The great Orphaner Dualscar, culled by his own brother— _that'll_ go over real well."

Cronus snorted derisively. "Come on, Eridan. You're smarter than that. Don't tell me you haven't figured it out by now."

"Figured what out?"

"How many sweeps have you heard me tellin' you stories about Orphaner Dualscar?"

"As long as I can remember."

"An' in all those sweeps, did it never occur to you to wonder how your own brother, a mere nine sweeps older than you, managed all those great an' terrible feats? Or why I made you tell the stories back to me until you had them memorized, only like _you_ were Orphaner Dualscar?"

Now that he thought about it, it _didn't_ make a whole lot of sense. "I guess not. How—?"

"I became Orphaner Dualscar at seven. The youngest Orphaner Dualscar in history. There's been ten a' us already. Since I found you, I meant for you to be the eleventh. Why else would I keep your existence such a secret? No one's supposed to know Dualscar's an inherited title. No one's supposed to know I have a brother an' I trained him to be my replacement." Cronus reached out and brushed his fingers lightly across Eridan's forehead, almost reverently, and it suddenly occurred to Eridan how incredibly similar they actually looked, save the difference in their ages. It was almost _too_ perfect, and something about it unsettled him. "Everythin' I've been trainin' you to do, you already succeeded in masterin'. You still need the scars, but apart from that, you got everythin' you need."

"Cro," Eridan whispered, seeing where he was going with this and shaking his head slightly, but Cronus ignored him.

"All you need to do now is cull the current Orphaner Dualscar," he said, spreading his arms.

"Cro, I _can't_ ," he insisted.

Cronus blinked as though he realized Eridan was right. "Oh. Yeah." He fumbled at his belt until he freed a dagger with two violet gemstones set into the hilt. He pressed it into Eridan's left hand, taking the younger Ampora by surprise, and said, "There. Now you can."

Eridan's hand shook. He wanted to throw the dagger against the wall, throw his brother to the floor, beat some sense into him—this was absolute madness. But as if against his will, his fingers curled around the hilt and he pulled it from its sheath.

It shone in the low light as Eridan examined it in morbid fascination. He held it up to get a better look, blocking off half of Cronus's face in the process. His own face was reflected back at him, but he couldn't look at himself for long; he lowered the dagger and set the sheath next to his sword. "Cronus. I don't know if I can do this."

"Yes, you can. Just make it fast. I don't do pain," he added with a wry smile, as if to lighten the mood, but it was a futile attempt. "Oh, hang on." Cronus took a moment to peel off the top of his outfit and toss it aside. "Don't wanna cut that up. It'll probably fit you great."

Eridan wanted to be anywhere but here right now. Tears stung his eyes, tinting his vision purple, but his grip on the dagger tightened. He couldn't believe this was happening—his own brother was going to die, and it was going to be all his fault.

"When I'm... gone, make sure you drop my body in the deepest part a' the ocean you can find, okay?" Cronus said.

"Is that your final request?"

Cronus shook his head. "No. My final request is, don't let Orphaner Dualscar die with you. Promise me."

Eridan nodded. "I promise." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to find a comfortable grip on the dagger with the other. "Ready?"

"Don't cry, Eridan. You're not a fuckin' wiggler anymore," Cronus said, although his tone was anything but harsh.

He automatically squared his shoulders. Cronus was right—he _wasn't_ a wiggler anymore. This wasn't a grub's task. It was something only Orphaner Dualscar could do.

Cronus still stood there with his arms slightly outstretched at his sides, a beckoning that Eridan wanted more than anything to flee from, but a beckoning he was equally compelled to answer. This was his duty now, to give Cronus the peace he craved. He desperately wanted to refuse him, to keep his brother with him, to keep things the way they were, but he didn't have a choice, not anymore. Not when The Scorpion was hunting Cronus as they stood here, coming to cull him in retribution. He was right also that she wouldn't grant him a quick death. The only chance Cronus had to die with dignity was at Eridan's hand.

So Eridan adjusted the dagger until it rested in his hand comfortably but loosely and, in one fluid motion, set his right hand on Cronus's shoulder to keep him in place and drove the dagger right into the center of his collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system.

Cronus gasped in shock and pain, his purple eyes widening, and grabbed Eridan by the shoulders to keep himself upright. A thin trickle of blood fell from his mouth and he let out a choking sound, sinking to his knees despite his best efforts.

Eridan sank with him, unable to let go of the dagger despite the warm violet blood flowing over his fingers. Everything was stained violet—his hands, his vision, his clothes, all were stained the horrible purple of their blood and he tried to hold back his tears, he really did, Cronus couldn't see him crying in his last moments, but one of Cronus's hands came up to cup his cheek.

"I'm proud a' you," he breathed, and despite the tears streaming down his face, Eridan was sure he felt his brother's bloodstained fingers leaving marks against his skin. "Orphaner..."

All at once, Cronus's hand fell away and his entire body went slack, his eyes closing, and Eridan abandoned all restraint. He ripped the dagger out of Cronus's chest and flung it aside, wrapping his arms around his body. He buried his face in his brother's neck and sobbed openly. Cronus smelled like salt water and blood, and Eridan knew he would never smell either again without coming back to this moment. He rocked on his knees, wishing with everything he was that he could undo all of this. His brother was gone and he was Orphaner Dualscar now. Fitting, since he had just orphaned himself.

"Cronus... fuck, _why_?" he cried—whimpered, really, considering the tears pouring down his face. And of _course_ Cronus's final request was for him to pass on the Dualscar title to someone else—that was the only thing stopping Eridan from crawling over to where he'd flung the dagger and culling himself right now. Even with that promise still ringing in his ears, it was tempting. The dagger was already dripping violet—a little more blood wouldn't make a difference.

But Cronus had made him promise. A final request was sacred. He must have somehow known that Eridan would contemplate suicide after this and want to follow him when he'd been so fearless of death himself. Cronus hadn't been scared at all to die—no, what had scared him was the idea of _Eridan's_ death.

So Eridan threw his head back and screamed, not caring what kind of retribution he brought down on himself. He didn't care about anything anymore—his brother was gone, the only reason he'd had to get up in the morning, to do anything, so what was the point anymore? He almost wished he could actually summon The Scorpion or someone who had a vested interest in his death, because even though he'd basically promised not to cull himself, if someone culled _him_ he wouldn't be breaking that promise. He couldn't help it.

Eventually, though, his shoulders stopped shaking and his sobs subsided to silent tears, and he was able to blink them away long enough to brush a few strands of Cronus's hair away from his face. Against hope, he willed his brother's eyes to open and that mischievous Dualscar smile to twist his mouth, but there was no flicker of movement.

But that made sense. That Dualscar swagger, the self-assured demeanor that had always belonged to Cronus, was his now. He might not have felt like smirking at the moment, but he wiped his eyes with a sleeve and a sniffle and went to Cronus's block.

He was still able to find the clothing Cronus had been most comfortable in—a plain white shirt with their sign in the same color as their blood and black pants. He knew that when he wrapped Cronus up and committed him to the ocean, he'd want to be comfortable.

Eridan covered him with one of the violet capes hanging in Cronus's block and slowly hoisted his brother into his arms and carried him out of the hive. There was Cronus's—now _his—_ sea-skimmer tied to the pier, and he knew what he had to do. He gently lowered Cronus to the bottom of the skimmer and went back to the hive to gather Ahab's Crosshairs and the dagger and change into Dualscar attire as quickly as he could. Cronus had been right—the clothes fit him nearly perfectly, although he was the slightest bit broader in the shoulder than his brother had been, making his chest feel tight. Once he'd strapped the dagger and sword to his belt and holstered Ahab's Crosshairs across his back (it wasn't as heavy as he remembered; his training had gone very well, it seemed), he went back out to the skimmer and set off to find the deepest, darkest part of the sea he could find.

* * *

He traveled for two days, carefully avoiding all sight of land and other vessels. He had a deep fear of seeing the _Blackweb_ 's sails on the horizon, and it was only through his radar that he was able to navigate away from everything until he reached the spot.

Even weak with hunger, he managed to maneuver Cronus's body into his arms again. He stood in the gently rocking skimmer and murmured, "I don't want to disappoint you, brother. Eternity awaits." He heaved a sigh and finally dropped Cronus over the side of the skimmer.

During the trip, he'd secured the cape to his brother's body and weighted it down with several rocks from just outside of their hive, so what was left of Cronus sank easily. Down, down, down, leaving nothing but faint wisps of purple in the water where the blood hadn't quite dried and a dark-purple smear of dried blood on the deck of the skimmer. Cronus disappeared beneath the water, and Eridan sat down hard in the skimmer.

 _Come on, Eridan. You know what you gotta do now._ He could almost hear Cronus's voice in the back of his head, but the voice was right. He unsheathed the dagger and wiped at it with his sleeve, studying his reflection again. He wondered how he would look after all this.

He used the sword as a mirror and lifted the dagger to his forehead.

It was agony—he wondered if Cronus had done this himself or if the Dualscar before him had branded him. He was out in the open sea and according to his radar, there was no one around, so he allowed himself to scream as he made two jagged, parallel cuts on the right side of his forehead. By the time he finished, he was close to passing out—the intense pain, his hunger, and the blood loss made him dizzy. He blinked blood out of his right eye, staining his vision with a bizarrely violet tint, and leaned back against the aft bench of the skimmer. Ahab's Crosshairs dug painfully into his back but he ignored it.

"Fuck," he muttered. The salt on his skin from two days at sea had gotten into the wounds, stinging even worse than they might have ordinarily, and he closed his eyes to center himself.

His whole body gave a violent tremor, and he recognized immediately that he was going into shock. He cursed himself for not bringing food with him, and he wanted to get away from this site as soon as he could—he wouldn't feel right searching for food at the place where he'd just committed Cronus to his grave.

"Keep it together, Dualscar," he muttered, and then, deliriously, he gave a half-chuckle. "Well, they're not scars yet, but... Orphaner. I am definitely Orphaner. Okay, let's go." He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the controls, beating a retreat as quickly as possible. The cold, salty air whipping at his face stung even worse, but it kept him alert, and once he'd made it two knots away, he stopped and dove in.

The salt water made him scream in pain again, sending bubbles rising to the surface, but after a few minutes, the pain subsided and he was able to begin hunting. He needed to hurry and get back to the hive. There would be a very limited amount of time before The Scorpion came bearing down on him, and he had to be gone by then.


	24. MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG II

_**Marquise Spinneret Mindfang** _

"Aranea."

Vriska breathed her name, staring into the meetingblock where, just hours before, her sister had been alive and happy, poring over maps in search of the Fluorite Octet. It was hard to believe that she was gone now, and at the hands of that wretched seadwelling chum-bucket, Orphaner Dualscar. She should have known he would do something like this. She should have known he would take everything that ever meant anything to her.

"I promise, Aranea. I will cull him." She crossed the block and twitched the curtains closed. A few of her sister's personal effects were strewn about the block, but most of her belongings and all of her clothes remained in what passed for their respiteblock. She had never felt drawn to any of Aranea's theatrical wardrobe choices, but now, when it was all Vriska had left of her, it was all she wanted.

The dozen or so lowbloods who crewed the _Blackweb_ had already helped her commit Aranea's body to the sea. The Serkets were landdwellers, true enough, but there was a reason a seadweller had seen her as his equal, even if he did later cull her. There was no landdweller more deserving of an ocean grave than her sister, the notorious pirate Marquise Spinneret Mindfang.

Except now, that was Vriska. The lowbloods on the ship would know better, would know that the real Marquise Mindfang was dead, but they could be dealt with easily enough. All it would take was a bit of her mind-control powers to erase Aranea from their memories.

As for the others... there weren't many outside the hive cluster they called their own who knew that Mindfang had a sister. Now, it seemed, that would work to Vriska's advantage. If people knew the real Mindfang was dead, they wouldn't fear _her_ , even if she used the same title and wore the same clothes and sailed the same ship. No, Aranea's death needed to be kept as quiet as possible in order for this to work.

But her first task would be to cull Dualscar, and finding him would be far easier said than done. He had the distinct advantage of being able to live his life beneath the waves and hide himself forever from her, but she didn't believe he would stay there. According to Aranea, they had a land-based hive—he and The Eleventh. Vriska had a feeling that was the first place Dualscar would go to, now that the coward had absconded, and though she had no idea where that land-based hive might be, she figured she would be able to find it within a sweep. As long as her thirst for vengeance burned in her veins, it would spur her to find him.

As she strode to her and her sister's respiteblock ( _It's just mine now_ , she thought sadly), she wondered what she would do about The Eleventh after she culled Dualscar. She suspected the two were close, so The Eleventh would probably try to stop her. No matter. If it came down to it, she would cull him, too. Aranea had once hoped that Vriska would see in him a suitable kismesis, but it was a little too late for such sentimentality. After this, there was no hope of that. How could she possibly find him even remotely attractive in _any_ quadrant?

At least that would make it easy for her to take Ahab's Crosshairs once the seadwellers were dead. Her sister had often dreamed of owning the harpoon gun as well as possessing the Fluorite Octet, and where Aranea had failed, Vriska would succeed. She wouldn't need Dualscar's help to find the Octet, either. She would do it on her own.

She looked through Aranea's wardrobe until she found the most Mindfang-esque outfit she could find. There was a black shirt that laced up at the hollow of her throat, tight-fitting black pants with cerulean-blue piping at the seams, and a black hoofbeast leather belt with the buckle beaten into the shape of the Serket symbol with cerulean-blue stones set in it, but she couldn't find her sister's hat or boots or jacket. She tried to remember what had happened to it... Had they committed her to the ocean in them? No, she distinctly remembered that Aranea had been dressed simply—just a shirt and pants. No boots, no coat, and definitely no hat.

_The deck._ It hit her in a flash—she'd seen her sister's hat on the deck near where she'd died. Vriska would wager her coat and boots were there, too. Aranea almost always wore them and only took them off for combat with Dualscar.

Burning hatred bubbled up when she even _thought_ about him, so despite being in bare feet, her steps pounded throughout the ship as she stormed to the weather decks to find her sister's clothing.

It was fortunate, really, that they looked so similar to each other. Not only would her deception as the real Marquise Mindfang be more likely to go unnoticed, but Aranea's clothes fit her well. The pants were a bit looser on her than they'd been on Aranea, but they would do.

The hat was easy enough to locate—it was still on the deck where she'd fallen. There were a few drops of Aranea's blood on it from the drying pool; Vriska had to close her eyes and try not to cry when she remembered that she was on her own for real. She had to keep moving or she would just break down.

She had to look around for a few minutes before she discovered her sister's boots and coat nearly tucked against a bulkhead. Briefly, she wondered how they got there before deciding it didn't matter. She simply tugged on the boots and buttoned up the coat before turning to eye her reflection in a window.

If she didn't know any better, she would say she _was_ Aranea. When she brushed her hair behind her ears and squared her shoulders and raised her chin, she could channel all of the original Mindfang's poise and power. If someone knew them intimately, they would probably know the difference—surely Dualscar would know, and even though he knew Aranea was dead, Vriska hoped that the split second it took him to remember that he'd culled her would terrify him, like Aranea had come back from the dead—but to the uneducated person, she _was_ Mindfang.

_Back from the dead._ All at once, an idea began forming in Vriska's head and she peered up at the two or three lowbloods that were aloft on the ship's mast. She didn't know if there were rumors of Mindfang's demise already circulating—probably not, since Dualscar probably wouldn't boast about culling his kismesis; if he had any sense, he'd cull himself preemptively, but she didn't think he possessed the think-pan capacity for that—but she had a good idea as to how to quash those rumors right now.

"Helmsman!" she called up to the rustblood at the helm. "Change our course to 1-7-6! We're hitting port!"

* * *

Word spread quickly enough through the ship that the _Blackweb_ was making port, which, as she hoped, had the effect of bringing every other person aboard to the weather decks to hasten the process. It had been nearly a month since the _Blackweb_ pulled in, and everyone was eager to make land. Not only would they be able to walk on solid ground again, but whenever the ship pulled in, they received whatever pay they'd accrued while they had been out. Vriska knew that most of them were looking forward to getting off the ship and filling buckets with their matesprit or kismesis or whoever they could find, and she let them hurry so long as they didn't botch up mooring the ship.

The brow came down not long before sunrise, and the crew members scrambled to get off the ship while Vriska strolled to an alehouse and began recruiting. Her plan would require fresh blood, and she didn't have much time to spare. She'd told her crew that they needed to return to the ship just after sunset the next day, and while they grumbled and complained, she knew they would listen, even without her controlling them.

The smart ones _wouldn't_ come back, though.

As for the new crew members, though... They didn't know her from the original Mindfang (she _was_ the real Mindfang, Aranea had bequeathed her the name and the ship, it was her hatchright—she just wasn't the _first_ Mindfang), and they would be fine. She made sure she had enough people to replace her entire current crew and told them to report to the _Blackweb_ the next day three hours before sunrise. They would be in port the next day, and then put back out to sea the following day for a total of two days and two nights in port.

Some of her current crew members, she knew, would have loose enough lips to gossip about how Mindfang had been culled and that the woman who dressed as Mindfang was really her sister, The Scorpion. She almost hoped for it, too. It would make it that much sweeter when she could dispel those rumors, as true as they were.

Once she had everything set in place for the next day, she went back to the ship to sleep in her own respiteblock. She had grown used to the hammock and the sounds of the ship and the light sway of the _Blackweb_ even when they were moored, and besides, there wasn't time for her to return to the hive she'd shared with Aranea. She didn't want to return there, anyway. There was nothing valuable left there, and it would be full of memories of her sister, memories she didn't want to relive. There was nothing there for her anymore. It was easier this way.

She couldn't sleep and, instead, spent most of the sun-drenched hours sharpening her sister's—now _her—_ sword. There were small flecks of violet blood on the blade near the tip and she smiled when she realized her sister had managed to cut Dualscar. Good. It was less than the bastard deserved, and a mere taste of the wrath that was to come. He was in for a world of pain and she hoped he dreaded it.

When her sword was sharp enough to cut the flame off a candle, she sheathed it on her belt and threw herself into the task of organizing her sister's belongings. Most of them she threw mindlessly into a trunk, but she kept out the clothes that might fit her. Her own clothes from her days as The Scorpion were too plain for a pirate captain, so she tossed them into the trunk as well. She would go through it all later, once the _Blackweb_ was on the seas again (she craved a return to the sea, just as she craved seeing that wretched seadweller's blood spill on her deck; Hell, she might even paint the decks with his blood), but for now, she left it where it was and went to the meetingblock.

There, she pored over maps in an effort to decide where to go next until the sun fell and she heard her crew return to her. It was time.

She stood up and strode out to the weather decks. A quick head count confirmed that all sixteen members had arrived, and she languidly drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword. Now her mind-control power would come in very useful. _"My crew,"_ she intoned, layering her words with her power, _"come with me. We have much to accomplish."_ She turned and headed back off the ship, and didn't bother looking behind her to confirm that the crew was silently following her. She knew they were. She hadn't met the lowblood yet who could throw off her power.

It was slow going as the awkward procession wandered to the beach. She had a feeling they were drawing stares from scattered onlookers, but she didn't care. If any of them figured out what she was doing, so be it. They would fear her, and if anyone knew her for a different Mindfang, she would have to rebuild that reputation of fear.

At least this would be a good way to get a start on it.

When there was no one around, she called them to a halt. She turned and looked at them all, quickly deciding which eight would go where.

It would be too easy, she knew, to do this while they were under her power, but if she released them, the sixteen of them could easily overwhelm her. _Right, the easy way it is._ One by one, she slashed each of the crew members across the throat, half-severing their heads in a spray of blood. By the time she'd gotten half of them done, she was drenched in shades of sand and rust, and she was grateful that she'd at least changed into a less-ornate version of Mindfang attire before departing the ship. She would wear the stains proudly, though.

Once the last member fell, she laid out their bodies on the beach in two rows of eight and cut away their shirts. She painstakingly carved one or two letters into the torsos of each of the sixteen corpses _MINDFANG WILL CULL DUALSCAR_.

_There._ If that didn't send a message, nothing would.

She wiped the blade of her sword on the tattered remnants of one of the bodies' shirts before sheathing the sword at her hip. She tossed her hair back, straightened her hat, and made her way back to her ship. She had to change and take an ablution before she would be ready to receive her new crew.


	25. THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD I

_**The Grand Highblood** _

"Grand Highblood, I'm afraid I have some... rather distressing news," The Director said as respectfully as possible from his position on bended knee. He and others had developed the habit of speaking to her with an overabundance of deference to avoid infuriating her, but they didn't realize that they could probably talk to her any way they wanted—if she wanted them culled, she would have it no matter what.

"What the motherfuck are you talking about?" she drawled, leaning forward in her throne.

"It seems that... Marquise Mindfang may not be as dead as the rumors would suggest."

 _This_ was interesting news. Just the day before, word had reached Kurlas that Mindfang had been culled, and by her kismesis Orphaner Dualscar, the rumors continued. That by itself was enough to raise her eyebrows since culling one's kismesis was one of the only actively punishable offenses—in general, murder was frowned upon, but not something to call the legislacerators about. She'd considered sending one of the Redglares to apprehend him but decided against it. After all, Mindfang _was_ a sworn enemy of Her Imperious Condescension and one of the best pirates out there. There had been a bounty on her head, too—although why Dualscar hadn't come forth to claim said bounty was a mystery.

But now, the mystery seemed resolved. If Mindfang wasn't dead, then there was no bounty to collect.

" _Why_?" she roared. "What the motherfuck is going on up in this bitch?"

"W-well, Grand Highblood, there was... a message. Left on a beach near the hive cluster where she lives. It, um... it read _MINDFANG WILL CULL DUALSCAR_."

So. Apparently the rumors were not completely unfounded. There had clearly been some kind of altercation between Mindfang and Dualscar, something to cause the rumors and apparently end their kismesissitude if she was out to cull him. Even more interesting. She sensed Gamzee shifting behind her but ignored him. "So? Let her have her motherfucking revenge. Dualscar probably motherfucking deserves whatever he's got up and coming to him."

The Director's expression grew more unsure. "Grand Highblood. This message... she appears to have culled her entire crew of rustbloods to leave it. She carved it into their bodies and left them on the beach."

Kurlas couldn't contain her burst of laughter. It echoed through the block, bouncing off walls and returning louder, more crazed than it began. Gamzee didn't laugh, but he probably wasn't even paying attention. All he'd done for the last two sweeps was sulk. It was unbecoming of The Young Highblood, but at least he wasn't _quite_ as much of an embarrassment as he had been.

Still, it was _funny_. According to stories, Mindfang wasn't afraid of a bit of bloodshed, but slaughtering an entire crew just to send a message? If the pirate wasn't an enemy of The Condesce, Kurlas would have to admire her. As it was, though... "Well, I suppose I should motherfucking send someone to up and deal with that motherfucking bitch, huh?"

"It might be prudent," The Director said tensely.

The lowbloods were restless as it was. The last thing she needed was them getting spooked because some midblood found it funny to cull a dozen of them as a mark of a vendetta against a former kismesis. It might inspire a similar retaliation from the lowbloods, and Kurlas couldn't have that. "Alright, fine. I'll send one of the motherfucking Redglares. Those bitches have wanted some motherfucking high-profile prisoners, so they can get their legislacerating on."

"Very well." The Director bowed quickly and retreated out of the throne block, and Kurlas sat back in her throne with a sigh. Now the question became, which of the Redglares should she send? Neophyte Redglare was still relatively inexperienced, but what she lacked in experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm and quick thinking. She would have probably passed the required examinations to become Judicate Redglare, but the Neophyte didn't want to _pass_ , she wanted to _excel_. She wouldn't take the tests until she was sure she would outperform everyone else. Besides, having two Judicate Redglares would be confusing.

On the other hand, the actual Judicate Redglare had developed a bit of a temper problem and a flare for the dramatic, endearing herself to The Grand Highblood in the process. Kurlas liked her subordinates bloodthirsty, and she didn't doubt that the elder Redglare would easily be able to hunt down Mindfang and bring her to justice. Either one of the Redglares, with the help of that lusus of theirs, would undoubtedly do quite a number on Mindfang and her ship.

"Brother," Kurlas said suddenly. It jolted Gamzee out of his reverie and he nearly fell over in surprise.

"Yeah?" he asked once he'd recovered.

"Pretend for a motherfucking minute that _you're_ The Grand Highblood. You got two motherfucking choices to up and deal with some motherfucking scum—someone who can motherfucking deliver, and someone who needs a motherfucking chance to up and prove themselves. Who do you motherfucking send?" She didn't necessarily _need_ his advice, but she wanted to know what he thought in case he ever had to deal with something like this when he reigned. He could learn something here.

He thought it over for several long moments. "The one who I motherfucking know could do it," he said simply.

 _Judicate Redglare it is, then_ , Kurlas thought. That had been who she was leaning toward anyway. "Smart motherfucking choice." She'd make the announcement tomorrow and send the elder Redglare on her way. No matter what Mindfang was capable of, one extra day wouldn't matter much.

* * *

The court dismissed two hours before sunrise, and Kurlas retired to her respiteblock once she'd made sure Gamzee ate at least a little. He wasn't a wiggler anymore, but if he insisted on acting like one, then she'd treat him like one. She didn't know what the matter with him was, either, and she'd given up trying to find out. He'd get over it in due time.

She'd just taken a seat and closed her eyes for a moment when she heard another chair scraping across the floor and she looked up, reflexively reaching for one of her juggling clubs, but what she saw made her freeze.

The Handmaid was back, casually sitting down and returning her gaze as if they spoke every day. _Two or three sweeps._ Had it really been that long since the jadeblood and the mutants?

"You're motherfucking back," she said dully, setting the club back down.

"I am," The Handmaid replied, smiling demurely.

"Here to tell me that Mindfang is motherfucking alive? Because I already motherfucking knew that."

The Handmaid tilted her head to the side. "Right. Sometimes I forget what's actually taken place, you see. I typically only remember what I arrive to tell people. The context sometimes escapes me."

"You want to get your motherfucking explanation on?"

She gave Kurlas an insolent stare. "I'm not inclined to, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt. You see, I come from a place outside the passage of time. This is... what, the third time you've met me? But this is only the second time I've met you, Grand Highblood."

Kurlas _really_ didn't like it when anyone who wasn't Gamzee used her real name, so the fact that The Handmaid had dispensed with that annoying habit satisfied her. "And?"

"And every time I see you, it's to give you a task. I never see anyone socially, after all. My orders are to appear to certain people at certain points in their timelines and give them a little push in the right direction. I was right about the jadeblood, wasn't I?"

"And The Princess," Kurlas muttered darkly.

The Handmaid raised an eyebrow. "Probably an event that hasn't happened for me yet. But I digress. Tell me, Grand Highblood. What is the state of affairs here?"

"Rumors of Orphaner Dualscar motherfucking culling Marquise Mindfang. It seems they aren't motherfucking true since she's still alive and apparently out for his motherfucking blood. Left a motherfucking message for him on the corpses of her motherfucking crew. Would you motherfucking know anything about that?" she asked on a sudden inspiration.

The Handmaid smiled mysteriously. "Yes, actually. I know all of the details. Unfortunately, those are spoilers. You're not to know them yet," she added, glancing down at her nails for a few moments.

Kurlas _really_ didn't like that answer. "Fine," she growled. "What is it you came to motherfucking tell me?"

"A moment first. How is it you plan to deal with Mindfang? Surely Her Imperious Condescension and herself don't mean to let her get away with such an inflammatory act?"

"Motherfucking of course not!" Kurlas snapped, jumping to her feet before she could stop herself. "I'm sending Judicate Redglare to hunt that motherfucking bitch down and have her motherfucking hanged! I can't have those motherfucking lowbloods think we don't care about them!"

The Handmaid gave her a penetrating look. "But you _don't_ care about the lowbloods. At least, not about their well-being. You care if what they do can be seen as a threat, but not about _them_."

"Yeah, _and_?"

"Technically speaking, Kurlas, I am not only a lowblood, but the lowest of them." She reached behind her head and plucked out a small, sharp pin that kept her hair in place. In one quick motion, she held out her arm and broke the skin just enough to cause her blood to well to the surface, and sure enough, her blood was a dark, dirty red. "However," The Handmaid went on, tucking the pin back into her hair, "I'm so far beyond the blood caste system that any threats you care to make will not intimidate me. I'm not the typical peasantry, either, and I don't necessarily care what happens to the lowbloods you govern as long as everything happens that should happen. So, tell me, Grand Highblood. Who do you intend to send to deal with Mindfang?"

"Judicate Redglare, one of the best motherfucking legislacerators I have."

The Handmaid furrowed her brows in confusion. "Judicate Redglare? Not Neophyte Redglare?"

"I did motherfucking think about sending her," Kurlas admitted. "But The Young Highblood motherfucking suggested—and I motherfucking agreed—that we should send someone who can motherfucking accomplish the mission, not a motherfucking wild card."

At her words, The Handmaid's expression shifted slightly. Kurlas couldn't read it, but then the rustblood's face became unusually neutral. "I see. Well, Gamzee's advice is far from sound, and both my employer and myself have a particularly vested interest to make her pay. Mindfang, that is. And believe it or not, Judicate Redglare is not the right Redglare for the job."

"Why don't you just motherfucking say it?" Kurlas snapped, annoyance getting the better of her. "You've seen the motherfucking future and I'm _supposed_ to motherfucking send Neophyte Redglare to get this motherfucking retaliation on? That's motherfucking it, right?"

The Handmaid didn't appear fazed in the slightest. "In so many words, yes. Send Neophyte Redglare. That is what needs to happen. She has a drive to make sure the deaths of those lowbloods are answered for, more so than her sister does. Sure, Judicate Redglare would see it through, but Neophyte Redglare is bent on bringing Mindfang to justice." She crossed her arms and sat back in the chair she occupied. "Besides, she also has that thirst to prove herself. Judicate Redglare doesn't have anything to prove anymore. No one expects her to become Overseer Redglare for quite a few sweeps yet. Things will turn out far better with the Neophyte."

"Fine," Kurlas spat. She finally sat back down, glaring at The Handmaid. "Motherfucking _fine._ I'll send Neophyte Redglare. I don't have a motherfucking choice, do I?"

"You do. It would just be foolish to decide against it." The Handmaid stood up and began walking to the entrance portal, but Kurlas said, "Wait."

"Yes, Grand Highblood?"

"When are you going to motherfucking be back?"

The Handmaid was silent for a few long moments before she answered, "Two sweeps. Then I will be back."

"Wouldn't it be motherfucking easier to just motherfucking tell me everything now instead of in motherfucking bits and pieces?"

She scoffed. "Easier, yes. Wiser, no. There are things you don't need to know yet, and so I won't tell you. Simple as that. Now. I will see you in two sweeps." The Handmaid gave her a curt nod and walked out the entrance portal.

As soon as she was gone, Kurlas groaned. _Neophyte Redglare it is._


	26. MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG III

_**Marquise Spinneret Mindfang** _

This new crew was working out splendidly, to her surprise.

It wasn't that she'd necessarily expected them to suck or anything—she'd interviewed them sufficiently enough to be sure that most of them knew what they were doing—but she'd assumed that things with them would be rocky, especially because she was surrounded by entirely new faces. But no, everyone had adjusted well and adjusted quickly, and less than two days after leaving her message on the beach, the _Blackweb_ was back at sea.

Now Vriska was safely ensconced in her respiteblock, staring at the chest containing her sister's personal effects and wondering how she was going to tackle this.

She hadn't had enough time to mourn Aranea. She wasn't sure that the rest of her lifetime would be enough to mourn her. They'd grown closer in the last four sweeps, but Vriska's determination to avenge her didn't stem from their sisterly bond. Rather, it was more a sense of duty from simply _being_ her sister. It was her responsibility to make sure that Dualscar paid dearly for what he'd done, and she would do it. She would make him rue the day he culled Aranea Serket.

But first, the way she promised herself, she would sort through Aranea's belongings.

It was slow going. Vriska had to stop every few moments to collect herself, trying not to cry. No matter how she tried, though, her vision tinted a light shade of cerulean and she had to resist the temptation to bury herself in her sister's clothes and close the chest on herself. It would have been nice, if a bit of a tight fit. She went as quickly as possible, sifting through Aranea's things until she found something she'd never seen before.

It was strange—she could call to mind her sister holding everything in here except this. She had literally no recollection of this particular item, a white sphere that she could easily hold in both hands. She turned it over and over, but couldn't find anything significant about it. _What's this?_ she wondered.

And then she saw something out of the corner of her left eye, her seven-pupiled eye. "Holy shit," she murmured. She focused her vision eightfold and suddenly, she saw exactly what it was.

_I AM THE MAGIC CUEBALL._

_Cronus. Show me Cronus._

For a moment, she saw nothing, and then, as she looked closer, she realized she was looking at water. Maybe she needed to know his full name for this, not just his first name.

_Show me Orphaner Dualscar_ , she silently commanded instead.

This worked much better. She saw a purple cape whipping in the wind—that was definitely Dualscar's cape, she would recognize that flamboyant affront to fashion anywhere—as he rode in his sea skimmer. It had to be him, even though she only saw him from behind. It couldn't be anyone else. He had Ahab's Crosshairs strapped to his back, after all.

_Where is he going?_

The image changed. She saw a seaside hive with a small dock behind it. It was colored in the vivid purple of his blood. Dualscar's hive, right there. She would find it and cull him there. It would be even more fitting—a seadweller culling a landdweller at sea, only to be culled on land by a different landdweller.

_Where is it? Show me coordinates._

The coordinates bubbled to the surface, and Vriska repeated them to herself until she remembered them. She knew where they were now and that it would take a day to get there.

That was fine. She tucked the magic cueball into the chest, locked it again, and stood up. She had a new course to set, and now that she knew where they would be heading, her appetite for revenge was sharper than ever.

* * *

She paced the decks restlessly, scanning the horizon for land. There was nothing yet, but she knew it was there, approaching, so close she could almost taste it.

Her helmsman had set the course and then, not realizing he shouldn't, he asked where they were going. She just gave him a sharp glare and snapped, "Fishing." It wasn't technically far off the mark, either—the chum-bucket was definitely going to die, and he was basically a fish.

She also kept her eyes open for Dualscar's sea skimmer. The cueball had shown her that he'd moored at his docks, but she'd stashed the cueball again and now couldn't be sure that he hadn't become alerted to her and fled again. _Not that it matters_ , she told herself. _If he flees again, I'll find him again. I'll hunt you to the ends of the planet, you worthless seadweller._

"Marquise," the helmsman said, snapping her attention back to reality.

" _What?_ " she demanded with a glare.

"Look." He pointed, and Vriska looked.

Land. Familiar land, land she'd seen in the magic cueball. She saw the top of that purple-adorned hive and knew they were here. "Silence!" she ordered everyone on deck. "Anyone talks, they feed the eight-legged sea beast!"

"Does that mean—" one of the other crew members started, but Vriska had heard enough. She charged forward, withdrawing her sword, slashed him across his throat, and kicked him in the chest. "Silence! Everyone! I am minutes away from confronting my enemy, and I will not have a single one of you alerting him that we're here! Do you understand?!"

There was a chorus of silent nods. Pleased that they'd gotten it, she wiped her sword off on the shirt of the fallen crew member and kicked him over the side. She'd have to replace him, but no matter. After she culled Dualscar and looted his hive, she'd have cash to spare.

They were getting closer now. She could see the whole hive and the dock with the sea skimmer still tied to it. She ran her thumb over the hilt of her sword, striding toward the prow of the _Blackweb_. They weren't going fast enough. He could still see them and abscond if he wanted to.

But she didn't see any movement coming from the hive. That was a good sign. The ship wasn't exactly intended for stealth, though—if he hadn't noticed them by now, he was a bigger idiot than she took him for.

They pulled up next to the pier and Vriska jumped off as four others followed her to tie the ship up. She left them to it and, unsheathing her sword, went to the hive, and shouted, "Dualscar! Show yourself! Face your fate!"

For a few moments, everything was still. And then to her right was a flash of violet, and she slashed viciously. Her sword connected with another piece of steel and before she could register anything but that stupid and slightly terrifying purple cape (reminiscent of the imperial drones) before she slashed again, spinning to face him—

_Oh._ That wasn't Cronus. He looked a lot like him, but it wasn't him. It must have been The Eleventh. She blocked his next blow and kicked him away. "Get the fuck away, chum-bucket! It's your fucking brother I want! Send out Orphaner Dualscar!"

A flicker of anger flashed behind his eyes. She wondered if this was how Dualscar had looked when Aranea had first met him—she could kind of understand the attraction now. The Eleventh had a streak of purple in his hair and a deep scowl on his face, but there was something there. "I _am_ Dualscar!" he snapped, going for another slash.

As she blocked it, his hair flew away from his face for a moment and she saw two jagged parallel cuts on his forehead, still raw and healing, but similar to Cronus's healed scars. "No, you're not! I met him before—you're not him!"

He growled. "I _am_ Dualscar, slayer of sea-beasts an' terror of landdwellers! You really think you can best me in combat?"

She snorted and lunged for his chest. She wasn't quite sure why, but she found herself hoping he would actually block it. "I _know_ I can best you, imposter!"

He parried and took a step back. "Imposter. Then I suppose I should call you out for impersonatin' Marquise Mindfang."

"Your brother _culled_ my sister! I impersonate no one! This is my hatchright!"

"As Dualscar is mine. My brother is dead now. I am Dualscar, like it or not." He sheathed his sword, but Vriska was too stunned to try to attack again. All the fight had been knocked out of her.

"He's dead? How?"

"I culled him."

_I'm so sorry, Aranea. I was too late to avenge you. What do I do now?_ She'd anticipated having to cull both Dualscar and The Eleventh, but she genuinely hadn't expected that anyone would beat her to the punch, least of all Cronus's own brother. She supposed she could have culled the new Dualscar, but she didn't really want to. She knew she should have wanted to, but she felt more like kicking his seadweller ass and letting him live.

"So now what?" he asked. "You came all this way to cull Dualscar." He spread his arms. "Go for it."

She glared at him, hatred spiking. "You're not even going to fight back?"

He looked uncertain. "You _want_ me to fight back?"

"Uh, _yeah_ ," she said before she realized what she was saying. It sounded dangerously close to black flirting, and she wasn't even convinced that it wasn't. Maybe that's what this was and Aranea had been right—she and Cronus's brother _would_ make good kismeses. There was that instant black attraction between them, at least on Vriska's end. Although the flickering of hope behind the seadweller's eyes hinted that it wasn't one-sided.

"I see." He unsheathed his sword again and gave it an experimental slash. He flicked his cape off and tossed it behind him.

"So are we doing this or what?" she asked.

"What, duelin'?"

"Yeah. That's what kismeses do."

A smirk tugged on his face. "Oh, is that what this is? I thought you flirted black with everyone."

Irritation flared up inside her, but it was a good kind of irritation. "My sister had the penchant for blackrom, not me. I prefer redrom."

His smirk widened. "Then I guess I should be countin' myself lucky, huh? Not everyone gets to have Marquise Mindfang as a kismesis."

"Except Orphaner Dualscar," Vriska shot back, and she lunged toward him, slashing again.

He knocked her blade aside and spun out of the way. "Gotta be faster than that, spider-bitch."

"I was just taking it easy on you since you've never done this before, fish-face." She lunged again and he laughed, dodging and countering with his own strike.

"I never said I never did this before. Cro an' I sparred all the time."

She was forcibly reminded of her own training on the rocking decks of the _Blackweb_ , struggling to block her sister's rapidfire blows and barely getting in a hit of her own. She'd gotten better with practice, though, and soon became her sister's equal. "Aranea and I used to fight, too. I beat her a few times, but I had to work for every victory."

"Same. Cro never made it easy. He always wanted me to be better than him. He got what he wanted, though."

"Is that why you culled him? Because you were better than him?" She slashed again, and he blocked.

"No," he growled. "I didn't _want_ to—he begged me to. Believe it or not, but he didn't mean to cull your sister. It was an accident. An' he regretted it."

"So he made you cull him and you took his place?"

"Only because he told me to. I didn't even know until a few days ago that he wasn't the original Dualscar, although I probably should a' figured."

This was news to Vriska, too. "He wasn't?"

"No. He was the tenth."

"Quite a legacy."

"We try."

She blocked his next blow and shoved him backwards against a tree. "So what am I supposed to call you? I don't really feel like calling you Orphaner all the time."

He grinned, his teeth sharp. "Eridan. Eridan Ampora. An' what do I call you, Marquise?"

"Vriska Serket, douche-fins."

Eridan's grin widened and he wiggled his fins. "Like 'em? I got 'em for my wrigglin' day."

She groaned. Half of her wanted to punch him in the face and the other half of her wanted to kiss him. He was only exacerbating her caliginous feelings—and she suspected he realized it. That just pissed her off even more.

She finally settled for smacking him one of his fins, although not hard enough to cause permanent damage. He rubbed it, grinning. "Okay, that was bad, but I couldn't help it. It's been awhile since I talked to anyone but Cro."

"That must be where you got your shitty sense of humor."

"That's not all I got from him."

How was it possible for her to hate him this much already? He'd already figured out how to infuriate her, and maybe she was naturally inclined to hate him because of her sister and his brother. But what did it matter? She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to her and kissed him hard, using more teeth than strictly necessary, but Eridan didn't complain. He responded in kind, sinking his nails into her shoulders.

When she pulled back, his lip was bleeding and he still had that infuriating Dualscar smirk on his face. He was definitely worthy of the Dualscar title. "I'll give you a choice, Eridan. You can help me find the Fluorite Octet like your brother was helping my sister, or stay out of my way. If you tell me you're not helping and I find out later you found the Octet and kept it from me, I'll cull you."

"Just like you meant to cull me today?"

She fisted his shirt and dragged him close again. "Yes. Only next time, I'll actually fucking do it. I have more than enough cause to do so right now, but I'm not going to. So make your choice."

He smacked her hand away and straightened his shirt. "I'll help you, Vris. Not like I got anythin' better to do."

"Fine. I'll be back soon. I need to gather provisions, and I saw a few ships on the way over I mean to loot." Vriska sheathed her sword. "See you around, Eridan."

He put away his own sword and picked up his cape. "Yeah. See you, Vris."

As she went back to the _Blackweb_ , she decided she didn't necessarily mind the nickname he'd given her. And sure, she hadn't expected to leave here with a kismesis as opposed to violet blood drenching her sword, but maybe she could turn this into her advantage.


	27. NEOPHYTE REDGLARE III

_**Neophyte Redglare** _

“You've been summoned.”

Terezi's head reflexively jerked up in the direction of her sister's voice. “Summoned? Summoned where?”

“The Grand Highblood herself has summoned you to appear before her throne.” Latula sounded slightly bitter, but Terezi couldn't figure out why.

“What for?”

She heard a sheet of paper rustling and automatically held out her hand. Her sister put the sheet in her hand. “No idea. The letter was rather vague—the intent, I'm sure. You report tomorrow. You need to bring Pyralspite, too.”

Terezi crumpled up the paper and stuffed it into her mouth. “I can read, you know,” she mumbled with her mouth full.

Latula sighed. “I know you can.”

Ever since Terezi had gone to hear The Signless, Latula had been incredibly cold to her. Terezi, for her part, had tried to keep things between them remotely civil, but Latula wasn't biting. She remained cold and distant, which Terezi tried to forgive her for, but it was annoying.

She was worried, though. She had no idea why The Grand Highblood was summoning her, but it was either very good or very bad, and her guess was on the latter. _She knows. What if she knows?_ If The Grand Highblood knew she had gone to hear The Signless preach, she didn't even want to contemplate the consequences. It wasn't exactly fine for lowbloods to listen to a preacher who, whether intentionally or not, incited rebellion, but Terezi worked directly for The Grand Highblood herself. Something like that bordered on treason for someone like her.

Except that she'd have to contemplate the consequences. As much as the idea of facing The Grand Highblood because of what she might know and because of what she might find out terrified her, she knew she would have to go. She would take whatever she had coming to her—and at least the E%ecutors would probably grant her a fairly quick death.

She could hear in her sister's voice, too, that it was probably bad. Latula had been right—the message had been deliberately unclear.

_Neophyte Redglare, your presence is demanded before The Grand Highblood. The presence of your lusus is required as well. Report tomorrow._

— _The Director_

Well, if she was culled, at least she would have Pyralspite with her at the end. Her lusus was the reason no one knew she was blind in the first place. Pyralspite had taught her how to function using her other senses and to not need to rely on her sight. Terezi just hoped they didn't cull the lusus as well.

If nothing else, Latula would never get over that.

* * *

She followed the sounds of Pyralspite's breathing, reached out, and stroked her nose. The dragon lusus snorted once and nuzzled into Terezi's hand. All at once, Terezi dropped to the ground and threw her arms around Pyralspite's neck.

“I'm scared,” she murmured into the warm scales. “I don't know what The Grand Highblood wants with us. I think she knows I saw The Signless and she's going to have me culled. I don't know why she wants you, there, but...” She pulled back and rubbed her lusus's head. “If they cull me, do anything you can to get free, okay? And once you get free, return to Latula. I know she hates me right now, but if she hears I was culled but you escaped, maybe she'll hate me a little less. I don't want to take you down with me, understand?”

She felt Pyralspite's head move up and down in a nod.

“Thank you.” She sighed and hugged her for a few moments longer. “It would be ill-advised to make The Grand Highblood wait any longer. You know how she gets,” she added with a halfhearted laugh. “Let's go.”

Pyralspite lowered her head to the ground to allow Terezi to climb onto her back. It took a moment of cautious maneuvering, but once she was securely seated, Terezi patted Pyralspite's neck. “You know where The Grand Highblood's hive is? Follow the smell of the highbloods.”

Pyralspite snorted once in understanding and took off, Terezi clinging to her back as best she could.

She supposed she would have liked riding on Pyralspite's back better if she could see, but her biggest concern was not falling off. Her problem was that she couldn't really feel if she was slipping off—she would have had to look down to judge. She also didn't know how high they were off the ground, but she could only assume it was fairly high since the air was much colder than on the ground. It made her a little sick to imagine how far she could fall, but then again, maybe it would be worse if she _could_ see. Perhaps it was better this way.

Perhaps it would be easier for her to just fall from Pyralspite's back and save the E%ecutors the trouble.

She shook her head and held a little tighter to her lusus. She couldn't think like that. No matter how scared she was, she knew she had to be brave.

They touched down sooner than she would have liked in front of The Grand Highblood's hive. She squared her shoulders, patted Pyralspite's neck, and walked up to one of the Defenders guarding the portal. “The Director sent for me on behalf of The Grand Highblood.”

“Neophyte Redglare?” the Defender asked, looking her over and raising an eyebrow.

“And my lusus, Pyralspite. I was ordered specifically to bring her as well.”

“They've been expecting you. Right inside.” The Defenders opened the massive double portals, which were big enough to allow Pyralspite to pass comfortably.

She turned her head as if looking over her shoulder and motioned for Pyralspite to come along. Her lusus's thunderous footfalls rumbled behind her as she walked through the double portals and into a smaller antechamber. The other portals opened for them, ushering them into The Grand Highblood's throne block. Terezi paused for just a moment, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

“Neophyte Redglare!” someone called, announcing her arrival. Terezi kept walking until she smelled the stone steps up to The Grand Highblood's throne rising up a few feet in front of her. She dropped to one knee, her nose twitching at the proximity of both The Grand Highblood and The Young Highblood.

It had been five and a half sweeps since the last time she'd met The Young Highblood. She wondered if he remembered her. Probably not—The Soporite had most likely been ridiculously soporified the last time. Still...

“Neophyte Redglare, thank you for responding so promptly to our summons,” said someone who was definitely not The Grand Highblood or her brother. It was probably The Director, since she could smell on him the same scent that had remained on his letter. _I was_ ordered _, you pompous ass_ , she thought savagely, but kept her mouth shut. “I'm sure you're wondering why we called you here.”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

Someone laughed. It took her a moment to realize it was The Young Highblood. The sound comforted her somehow, although she didn't know why.

“You're familiar with the problems we've been facing, are you not?”

 _The Signless. Yeah, buddy, I'm pretty fucking familiar with those problems._ This was it. “Yes.”

“Then you'll know we need to bring Marquise Mindfang to justice any way we can.”

 _Marquise Mindfang? Oh, shit._ This wasn't about The Signless—this was about the pirate. And if this was about Mindfang, then there was no way Terezi was about to be culled. She could already see how the pieces of this puzzle would fall into place, and she felt herself start to grin. She wasn't going to be punished. She was being assigned a case. _Which explains why they wanted Pyralspite here, too._

“I understand,” she said.

“Normally, we wouldn't concern ourselves with the deaths of some meaningless warmbloods, but Mindfang has been a pain for quite some time, and what with all the other lowblooded issues we've been having... Well, it's in our best interest to take her down, and quickly.”

She understood what The Director was saying far better than he realized. The highbloods were afraid of the lowbloods. They knew the lowbloods were beginning to speak of revolt, and they were _afraid_. The death of Mindfang, who had culled quite a few of the lowblooded number, wouldn't assuage the lower castes for long, but it would buy the highbloods time to come up with another way to keep them in check. The highbloods feared the lowbloods, and apparently for good reason.

Which left Terezi in a bit of a quandary. She secretly supported The Signless and the lowbloods, and so she personally wanted to bring Mindfang to justice. But it _would_ quell the lowbloods, however briefly, since it would be proof that maybe the coldbloods did care about them, and that wouldn't do. And she certainly didn't want to carry out this mission on The Grand Highblood's orders.

“Find her. Use your lusus to help you. Bring her before His Honorable Tyranny. Make her pay. And that kismesis of hers—Orphaner Dualscar. If you find him and can bring him in as well, so be it. But if not, leave him to Her Imperious Condescension. He's not a priority, after all. Mindfang is the one we want.”

Terezi didn't have a choice. She had to bring in Mindfang. Despite her reservations, her mind was starting to rev up, already coming up with a plan of attack for this challenge. She would succeed—she was sure of it. “I understand. Consider it done.”

“Very well, Neophyte Redglare. You are dismissed.”

Terezi stood up, bowed in the direction of The Grand Highblood, and turned around, heading past Pyralspite. Her lusus followed her out the two sets of portals and out of the hive until Terezi stopped and stood there, wondering when her legs would give out.

She was still alive. Her presence at The Signless's sermon hadn't been noticed. She had a mission, one her sister would have killed to have. Latula had wanted the assignment to bring in Mindfang, after all, but The Grand Highblood had chosen _her_ instead. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Pyralspite nudged her back.

“Right. Time to go back, then? Time to face my sister's wrath?”

The lusus simply flattened herself to allow Terezi to climb onto her back again.

“We'll go back, tell Latula what happened, and then we'll set off for Mindfang's last known location. Fancy a pirate hunt?”

* * *

What seemed like seconds later, Pyralspite touched down at their hive and Terezi slid off her back. Somehow, she dreaded this more than actually meeting The Grand Highblood because at least now, she knew her sister wouldn't be anything except beside herself with rage. Terezi reminded herself that she wouldn't be here long—just long enough to tell Latula, collect some provisions, and leave—but her heart still pounded as she went inside and smelled for her sister. “Latula?”

“You're back,” Latula said, and she _definitely_ sounded surprised. “What did The Grand Highblood want?”

“I have an assignment.” Terezi brushed her hair back behind her ears to disguise her nerves. “It seems that... Marquise Mindfang has left quite an impression on the highbloods.”

“What do you mean?” Latula asked quietly.

“I mean... The Grand Highblood, through The Director, has ordered me to apprehend Mindfang and bring her before His Honorable Tyranny.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “You... got the Mindfang case?”

“Yeah. That was why they wanted me to bring Pyralspite. She's going to help.”

“I see.”

Latula was being deliberately cool. Terezi couldn't get a good feel for how this conversation was going. “Anyway, we have to leave right away. So... I guess I'll see you once all this is over. You'll be okay while we're gone, right?”

“Of course I will,” Latula said, suddenly sounding irritated. “I'm not the blind one, remember? I'm the one that's sighted and casteist.”

“But still not the one who was assigned to bring in Mindfang, so what does _that_ say?” Terezi snapped before she could stop herself.

“That the highbloods are idiots. Go get yourself killed—Mindfang is going to have a field day with this. Sending a fucking Neophyte—the highbloods have no idea what they're doing, do they?”

Any thought Terezi had for sparing her sister's feelings vanished. “I think they know exactly what they're doing. I think they know I'll do a better job than you would.” Turning to hide the tears stinging her eyes, she headed back outside.

“Try not to kill Pyralspite, at least!” Latula yelled after her, but Terezi just slammed the portal in response.

“Come on, Pyralspite,” she murmured, sniffling and running her hand over her lusus's head. “Let's go catch us a spider.”


	28. THE ENGINEER II

_**The Engineer** _

The days of E%ecutor training blurred together until there was nothing but an endless, mind-numbing cycle of drills and strength training and meals and tactical maneuvers and archery practice and sleep, a rhythm of life that didn't really feel like his life at all. The first week, he barely noticed the change, but by week twelve, he took a mental step back and realized that he didn't recognize the person in the mirror anymore. Training was all about getting yelled at and learning to ignore everything but the orders you'd been given. In his entire life, he'd never disobeyed an order, but now, that was all there was. Just orders.

It was the eighteenth week before he realized that everything was automatic. Two weeks away from graduation, he tried to fathom what it would be like to be a fully-fledged E%ecutor and have the stringent training finally complete, and he realized he couldn't. There was only the silent waiting for the next order, the next drill, the next phase.

But he was the only one. Everyone else in his training group, the younger ones (the youngest was _seven—_ compared to them, he felt old), seemed to have no problems with handling what limited free time they were given. There were small groups of people who joked with each other and spent their free time swapping stories about their lives before E%ecutor training and coming up with ridiculous names they would never be allowed to take as titles. Horuss never felt like a part of any of it, though. He already had his title chosen and he had unintentionally isolated himself from his new peers anyway. At the very beginning, he had kept entirely to himself, speaking only when spoken to and never volunteering anything about himself. His greatest fear had been that they would discover that the Commander, E%ecutor Darkleer, was his brother—as though it wasn't already obvious from their identical horns—and treat him differently than any other recruit. But later, everything started running into itself and it became clear that no one would have cared, and by then it was too late.

His brother. It had been months since he'd seen Equius last, more than half a sweep, nearing a full sweep. There had been no contact between them at all—not so much as a letter. He knew that it was to be expected—they were supposed to be completely isolated for the duration of their training, after all, and no one would know that better than Equius—but he'd half-expected to see his brother prowling the training compound, checking in on the recruits. He knew the Commander was expected to do that from time to time. After all, soon enough they would be under his command.

Maybe Equius was still on his mission from The Grand Highblood. He could hear the instructors and guards talking quietly as they patrolled and it was obvious that the lowbloods were still uneasy. And then there were the rumors of Marquise Mindfang being dead, rumors that just a few days later were disproved when a number of warmbloods were discovered slaughtered on a beach with a message from the Marquise herself to her now ex-kismesis. Some legislacerator, a Neophyte named Redglare, had been sent to apprehend her, to bring her to justice for the unwarranted and grisly culling of those lowbloods, but Horuss didn't see what good it would do. The lowbloods would never be satisfied, even if Mindfang actually _was_ apprehended and hanged. They would keep their quiet, angry murmuring until it bubbled over into an ill-conceived revolution, and then there would be nothing left for it except the E%ecutors and the Defenders to squash the rebellion and cull them all. This was what he knew. The legislacerators were useless and it would only be the E%ecutors and Defenders who could restore order.

Equius was right at the front of that fight, trying to track down those who sought to overthrow the caste system. Common sense might dictate that the E%ecutors cull the leaders as they found them, but Horuss knew why it wasn't wise. It was best to take them out all at once, not one by one. They couldn't give them a chance to hide themselves. It was best to lull them into a sense of false security and then destroy them all at once.

Sometimes, when everyone else was sleeping, he tried to imagine what he'd be doing if he weren't here, in the midst of E%ecutor training. Building more of his useless robots, no doubt. He would turn over in his recuperacoon and scowl to himself—there was no point in entertaining those notions anymore. Why had Equius allowed him to fritter away his time for so long? What had been the _point_? Aside from allowing him to come to the conclusion on his own, the one thing he could do to save himself from a life of disappointment, there had been no reason save mere indulgence. _He shouldn't have indulged me like that. I'm not a wiggler. I haven't been for a long time._

That thought, that Equius had actually been _wrong_ about something, didn't sit well with him. He wasn't used to it—he only knew of Equius as the one who had all the answers, the one who always did what was right. He always obeyed everything their caste demanded of them, but now...

That disillusionment followed him until his graduation day. He didn't know what else he could do besides keep his proverbial head down and continue on like nothing had changed, but finally came the last day, their graduation. Horuss had been anticipating it and dreading it in equal measure, and even though he knew basically what would happen—they had rehearsed it several times already—you couldn't predict how you would feel after it was all over.

The recruits lined up in one long line, all fifty of them, sorted based on their cumulative scores. The ones at the beginning, where the four full E%ecutors would begin their inspection, were the ones with the lowest scores, and the ones at the end had the highest scores. Surprising most everyone but Horuss himself, _he_ had earned the top grade in his class. He would be the last one that the three instructors and the base lieutenant would speak to, and he couldn't help his small surge of pride to know that—but there was also a small amount of disappointment mixed in (alongside a great deal of apathy) because Equius had been in the top ten at his graduation, but not the first. _Will he be proud when he finds out? Or jealous?_ Whichever it was would indicate the true nature of Equius's character.

The base lieutenant began speaking, and though Horuss stood carefully still at attention, he remained lost in his own thoughts until the lieutenant, some woman named Luminous (her name sounded familiar, but he couldn't think of how) stepped down and joined the four other full E%ecutors at the beginning of the line.

It wasn't until the group was about halfway through that Horuss realized that was _wrong_. There was only supposed to be four of them, not five. There was someone else with them, someone he couldn't see out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't turn his head to look, of course—that would be a sign of disobedience, and because he had the highest score, he was expected to be the most disciplined. He wouldn't break, not in front of everyone. He kept his eyes locked to the front and waited for them to finally arrive.

And then they were there. Someone stepped into his line of sight and his eyes fixed straight ahead on a pair of dark-tinted goggles, cracked on only one lens, and the corner of Equius's mouth quirked up in a smile.

"So. _You're_ the recruit I've heard so much about," he said quietly, fondly.

"Yes, sir." Everyone could see it now—their heights, their horns. They couldn't be anything but brothers. Surely it would be alright if, even for a moment, Horuss smiled back. But when he tried, he realized he couldn't remember _how_. He hadn't smiled in weeks, and he didn't know what he was doing wrong now.

The moment passed before he could return Equius's smile and a flicker of sadness crossed the elder Zahhak's face. It was gone in a heartbeat though. "Congratulations on making it here, recruit. Now that you are a fully-fledged E%ecutor, what have you chosen for your name?"

"Coldbeat, sir."

He wished he could see his brother's eyes. Instead, though, Equius simply nodded. "Well done, E%ecutor Coldbeat."

And then it was over. Equius was turning around and the instructors and the base lieutenant followed him. What would happen now?

He had imagined their reunion differently. He should have been able to smile, to fling his arms around his brother—it would have been frowned upon at graduation, of course, but he'd also imagined their reunion would take place after it, not during it—to speak freely, but he couldn't. Something inside him had changed.

Or was it really him that had changed? What if it was Equius who'd changed? He'd been gone, mingling among the lowbloods for nearly a sweep now. Horuss couldn't recall very many smiles from his brother. Had something about them changed Equius?

There was motion to his right as the new E%ecutors suddenly broke ranks, cheering and whooping. They'd been dismissed. They were no longer recruits—they could move about the compound freely now, and they began trickling out in twos and threes to do just that. Horuss found himself isolated from them all again, separate from their celebration. He glanced toward where Equius, as Commander, had dismissed them.

Equius was looking back at him, his expression unreadable. Horuss looked away and followed a small knot of new E%ecutors out of the building, forcing himself to slow his pace so as not to collide with them. How could he face Equius right now? Some cosmic shift had taken place between them—he could feel it, and he was certain Equius could feel it as well.

He walked until he found himself back in the recruit barracks. Slowly, he began packing his clothes. Now that training was over, he could return to his hive, to Aurthour, to everything he'd known. The only difference was that he would be under the command of E%ecutor Darkleer—but when had he not been? In a way, Equius had always been in charge of him. Would he return there, or would he find a hive of his own? Or he could live in one of the communal hives that a lot of new E%ecutors shared, right here in the compound. He had options, and while he wouldn't have much personal space in one of the communal hives, he had gotten used to others being next to him almost constantly.

Yes, that was what he'd do. All he needed to do was go and register and that would be that.

"Horuss?"

He immediately straightened up and spun around. He knew who it would be, of course. There were only three people who knew his real name: Equius, Aurthour, and The Handmaid. "Hello, E%ecutor Darkleer," he said quietly.

Equius was smiling again, a tentative, half-smile that didn't look like it belonged on his face. Then again, the Zahhak face wasn't made to smile. It was made to scowl. "We're equals, Horuss. You may address me as Equius."

"We aren't equals. You're my commanding officer."

Equius spread his arms. "We're alone. Here, we are just brothers. There's no need for formality."

 _You've forgotten everything about your training._ He couldn't let Equius see his distress, though. "When have I ever refrained from the formal?"

Equius nodded slowly, the smile disappearing from his face. "That's true, I suppose. It's what I always admired about you, you know."

Horuss remained silent. There was a point—he was just waiting for Equius to come to it.

After a few moments, the elder Zahhak let out a small sigh. "I was... surprised—understandably, I believe—when I came back to the hive and Aurthour told me you had gone. And that was before he told me where you went, and why."

"This is what you've wanted from me for sweeps, is it not?"

Equius opened and closed his mouth several times, looking stunned. "Is that why you did this? Because you thought I _wanted_ you to?"

Horuss couldn't tell him the whole truth—he couldn't tell him about The Handmaid. "It was because I finally saw what I _thought_ you were trying to teach me—that nothing could come of my time as _The Engineer_." He spat his former title like venom, like even saying it caused him pain. "What good could I possibly be to anyone as anything besides... besides _this_? I've been trying to make you proud of me my whole life, and I thought this was how I could."

"Horuss." Equius took three steps toward him, sliding his goggles from his face. "That's... no. That's not what I wanted for you at all. I chose this because I _had_ no other choice. It was all I could do. But you could have had it so much better than me. Didn't you ever wonder why I let you carry on with your automatons?"

"I wondered that every day I was here," Horuss said darkly.

"It was because you could have done something with it. You _enjoyed_ it, and you could have changed everything with it. If you wanted to become an E%ecutor just because you wanted to, I would have been proud of you. But... Horuss, I know you. This isn't what you want."

Something inside him snapped. How could he have ever thought Equius was brave or right? He was blind. He was wrong. "It's what I want now, Commander. And I am glad for it." He stormed past Equius and out of the barracks, waiting for his brother to call after him, to order him to stop.

But he never did, and that was all it took to confirm Horuss's suspicions. There was no place for him with Equius anymore. He was on his own now.


	29. THE PRINCESS II

_**The Princess** _

She was no longer under the water, but somehow, she felt more comfortable than she did when she was with Meenah. _Three sweeps._ It had been three sweeps since the last time she'd been here, far too long, but now... Well, the wait was over. The tension in her chest melted away and, sure, no one had been expecting her, but at least this wasn't a big thing, not like the last time she'd been here.

Last time had been the return from her trip around Alternia. There had been a great deal of fanfare for their return and, of course, The Grand Highblood had had her words, but Feferi had only lingered there for a few hours longer before being whisked back to her own hive. She'd barely gotten a chance to say goodbye to Gamzee. That had been the worst. Their moirallegiance had been cemented by that point, and being without him had had a horrible effect on her psyche—and his, too, if the rumors were to be believed. They'd spoken quite a bit on Skaianet, but it wasn't the same, and it wasn't enough. The net wasn't conducive to a continued moirallegiance when the very nature of the relationship required physical contact.

But she was back now on an unannounced visit, but who cared? Meenah dropped by to see The Grand Highblood every once in awhile, so why couldn't she visit her moirail? She had every right. She was The Princess. And it _had_ been three sweeps. That was long enough.

She took a smaller transport shuttle to the highbloods' hive as opposed to The Battleship Condescension. She hadn't necessarily asked permission from her sister to go see The Grand Highblood and Gamzee, but the way she looked at it, her sweep and a half away from Meenah had changed her. She found herself caring less and less about the little things, like what Meenah thought of her, and caring more about the important things. She'd been stupid for thinking she was safe from Meenah—she had to prove that she would make a worthy successor, both to her sister and to herself.

She had another reason for visiting Gamzee, though. Meenah still sheltered her from the important parts of Alternian society, which Feferi found annoying, but she knew Gamzee almost always sat in with his sister when things happened and needed to be brought to The Grand Highblood. He would tell her things that Meenah wouldn't, things that she needed to know. Something was going on—she knew it. She just didn't know what.

The shuttle touched down in front of The Grand Highblood's hive, but the sun was already up by that time. Feferi had to wait until the sun went down before she could leave the safety of the shuttle.

It was long enough for the occupants of the hive to realize they were there, though.

About an hour after the shuttle landed, Feferi's husktop chirped. She'd already settled in to sleep, but she felt like this might be important. She slowly climbed out of the transport's recuperacoon and checked her messages to see that terminallyCapricious was online and messaging her. _Gamzee!_

_TC: HeY fEfErI aRe YoU mOtHeRfUcKiNg ThErE?_

_CC: Yes, Gamzee! Rig)(t )(ere!_

_TC: No I mEaNt RiGhT oUtSiDe My MoThErFuCkInG hIvE. wE hEaRd OnE oF tHe MoThErFuCkInG cOnDeScEs ShIpS wAs HeRe BuT sHe UsUaLlY tElLs Us WhEn ShEs CoMiNg_

_TC: So Im HoPiNg ItS yOu :o)_

Feferi smiled. Apparently Gamzee missed her just as much as she missed him.

_CC: W)(ale you're in luck! We )(ave to wait until sunset to drop in but yes, it's me!_

_TC: YoUr MoThErFuCkInG sIsTeR aCtUaLlY lEt YoU lEaVe?_

_CC: ...it's a bit of a long story. I'll explain it once we can glub privately, okay?_

_TC: AlRiGhT fEfErI iLl SeE yOu AfTeR sUnSeT tHeN_

Feferi closed up her husktop with a smile and went back to her recuperacoon. She imagined Gamzee doing the same before remembering he didn't sleep in a recuperacoon, he had a... what did he call it? A bed, right?

Well, as long as he was sleeping, that was the important thing.

* * *

When she woke up next, the sun had set, so Feferi got dressed and opted to forgo her breakfast. Besides, everyone else on the transport—all five of them; she didn't need a full retinue—had already eaten. She didn't want to be the one to delay them further, especially when she was the whole reason for the visit.

They left the transport and stepped onto the lawnring. Upon catching sight of them, the Defenders at the portals opened them up to allow them entrance—at least, that was what she thought, until The Grand Highblood herself appeared, looking less than pleased. Actually, she looked downright furious.

"What the motherfuck are _you_ doing here?" she shouted as Feferi approached.

The first time she'd met The Grand Highblood, she'd found herself intimidated. After all, she towered over Feferi and had a booming voice and cursed a lot. The first time, she'd greeted her demurely, unnecessarily afraid of her.

But that had been four and a half sweeps ago. By now, Feferi wasn't intimidated. Not after everything she'd seen. Not anymore.

She held out her 3dent in front of her as a warning to The Grand Highblood. "Don't you _dare_ take that tone of voice with me!" she snapped. If she hadn't been meeting The Grand Highblood's aggression with her own, she might have used _tuna voice_ as a pun, but right now, she was having none of it. "Have you forgotten who the ranking highblood is here?" Sure, Feferi wasn't in charge _yet_ , but by simple virtue of her blood caste, The Grand Highblood was bound to obey her.

By then, she was within arm's length of The Grand Highblood. She still had to look up to meet the indigo-blood's glare, but she did so with her shoulders back and a glare of her own. The Grand Highblood would most likely win if they came to a fight, but Gamzee's sister would have to be insane to challenge her in the first place. Meenah would lose her mind.

"You're surprised at my presence, I get that," Feferi hissed. "But make no mistake—you answer to _me_ , not the other way around. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The Grand Highblood let out a low growl of irritation and anger before nodding.

"Smart girl," Feferi said, pulling her 3dent out of The Grand Highblood's face. She knew she was being deliberately antagonistic now, but it was so rare for her to become angry over anything that she wasn't quite used to the feeling. She did know, however, that she could use a soothing papping from her moirail after this. She brushed past The Grand Highblood and strode into the hive unaccompanied. She didn't bother to see if the indigo-blood was following her, either. She didn't particularly care.

The scowl melted off her face when she saw Gamzee, though. He was lurking just inside the second set of portals with a small smile visible underneath the makeup he wore. "She looks motherfucking mad."

Feferi giggled slightly. "I may have told her off."

"I motherfucking heard. You were great."

"She just got me so _glubbing_ mad! It's like she forgot who the fuchsia-blood around here is!"

"It's okay. I'm just motherfucking glad to see you."

She sighed and hugged Gamzee tightly. She was able to get her arms completely around his narrow frame to touch her elbows, and after a moment, he returned her embrace. "I missed you," she said softly. "I can't believe it's been three sweeps."

"I know."

She pulled back. "Let's go somewhere and _glub_." She glanced outside, where The Grand Highblood was still seething and Feferi's crew members were starting to skirt past the indigo-blood. "There's a lot to discuss, isn't there?"

"This way." Gamzee led her into the throne block, all the way to the back to a door. He pushed it open and ducked inside, and she followed, closing the door behind them. They walked on in silence for a few more minutes until she was completely lost, but Gamzee, at least, seemed to know where they were going. And then they were in a small, dimly-lit side block that had silver pie tins stacked in one corner and a pile of what looked like honking horns in the middle. He spread his arms wide and flopped backward into the horn pile, which she didn't think looked particularly comfortable, but she joined him anyway. The horns honked loudly as she settled her weight onto them, feeling like she was six sweeps old again.

"I don't know what's happening out there," Feferi confessed, setting her 3dent down on the floor. "My sister won't tell me, and it's getting frustrating."

Gamzee sighed. "A lot's motherfucking changed since the last time we motherfucking saw each other. The lowbloods are talking about motherfucking revolting or something."

"Revolution? Why? What's going on?"

He ran his fingers over his hair, staring absently at a far wall. "I'm not all motherfucking up to speed, not like Kurlas is, but I figure you probably don't wanna make with the motherfucking small talk with her."

"Not unless I have to," Feferi admitted with a small smile. She would smooth things over with The Grand Highblood later.

"From what I can motherfucking figure, there's this lowblood they call The Signless. My sister's gonna send one of the motherfucking E%ecutors to take care of him soon, I think—probably Darkleer. I guess he's the one who's been motherfucking in charge of tracking him down in the first place."

"But why? What did The Signless do?"

"He's a motherfucking preacher. He's been motherfucking saying some stuff about living in a motherfucking casteless society, and... well, you can motherfucking guess how the other highbloods are taking _that_."

"It certainly sounds revolutionary," Feferi murmured. "Is he violent? Trying to inspire the lowbloods to rebellion?"

Gamzee was quiet for a few moments. "No. Not this one. There's others like him, other motherfucking preachers who try to get their followers to cull every motherfucking blueblood they can up and get their motherfucking hands on, but The Signless... he's not like that. He wants a motherfucking society free from culling, I guess. It would be a little motherfucking hypocritical if he incited violence against the highbloods, huh?"

She noted the detached way he talked about it all, as if he was completely outside of issue. He wasn't, though—he was The Young Highblood, next in line to sit in The Grand Highblood's throne, and if any of these other lowblooded radicals besides The Signless had their way, Gamzee would be fourth for the culling drones after Feferi herself and both of their sisters. "And the Cavalreapers? They're comprised primarily of lowbloods," she reminded him gently.

"Yeah. I don't think they're giving the highbloods any motherfucking problems right now since Kurlas doesn't seem too motherfucking worried about them, but she's watching them."

"So if The Signless is nonviolent, why is your sister so concerned with getting him out of the way?"

"Because he was the first to get his motherfucking preaching on. He's the most influential right now—which is crazy, since he's only like motherfucking nine and a half or something. But he's got this motherfucking jadeblood who's his closest follower—"

"Jadeblood?" Feferi asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I... I just seem to remember that, a few sweeps ago, your sister sent some E%ecutors to apprehend a jadeblood for harboring a pair of mutants. Could they be connected?" Jadebloods were rare, after all.

"I don't think so. They motherfucking culled the jadeblood."

"Yeah, but she had a sister they never found, right? And they never found the mutants, either."

Gamzee blinked slowly. "If he's a motherfucking mutant, that would explain why they motherfucking call him Signless. I always motherfucking assumed it was to hide what motherfucking caste he was really a part of."

"That's probably what everyone else thinks, too. But if your sister knew he was a mutant, don't you think she'd put a lot more emphasis on finding him and having him culled?"

He nodded, looking stunned. "She definitely motherfucking would. She'd have them all motherfucking culled without a second thought."

"Exactly." She drew her knees up to her chest, a cold weight settling throughout her body. If Gamzee was right and The Signless was as nonviolent as they thought, then she didn't like the idea of culling him at all. It wasn't right—especially when she was pretty sure she agreed with what he believed in. Gamzee probably did, too, actually. "So what The Signless has been saying... do you think he's right?"

He didn't answer for almost a whole minute. She was just considering repeating herself or poking at him to get his attention when he nodded. "The motherfucking system is flawed. I don't know why I think that, but I do. I'm The motherfucking Young Highblood and I think the caste system is bullshit, but who the motherfuck am I to disagree?"

"You don't have to be a victim to acknowledge when there's a problem," Feferi murmured. The horn pile honked softly as Gamzee's head jerked sharply in her direction. "In fact, I think it just demonstrates your wisdom. And, if you think about it, the two of us... we're in a _fin_ tastic position to do something about it. Once we take our respective thrones, everything's going to change. I can feel it." She grabbed Gamzee's hand and laced her fingers through his. "Not today, and not tomorrow. But one day. Will you be ready."

"For you, I'd do motherfucking anything."


	30. THE SUMMONER II

_**The Summoner** _

A lot could change in three sweeps. A lot that he would give nearly anything to change back. A lot that could never be undone.

One by one, they'd disappeared—Bosmic, Yalena, Iveria, even sea-green-blooded Clorin, all of them—until it was only him and Tavros left. Often, Rufioh found himself lying awake and thinking about all of them, wondering what had happened to them, even though there was no point to it.

He remembered so many sleepless days wondering, hoping they would come back. They'd disappeared and simply never come back, not even a sign that they'd been culled, although Rufioh suspected that's what had happened to them.

No one else had found them, either. The orphans had stopped coming, and it didn't sit well with Rufioh. Maybe one of the E%ecutors had found whatever it was that led orphans to them and destroyed it. He couldn't be sure. He was too afraid to stray too far from the hive lately. He was seven and a half, nearly grown, but he was terrified of leaving Tavros by himself—he was only four and a half, and without a lusus, he was still a target. Rufioh had failed the rest of them, but he couldn't fail Tavros. He wouldn't. Tavros was the last thing that meant anything to him.

He'd been terrified for the last three sweeps that Tavros would disappear anyway. After he molted, he still had problems with his walking for a little while. Up until he was about two and a half, he would stumble or have to lean on someone or something just to stand up. It was always nerve-wracking when Rufioh had to leave Tavros by himself for whatever reason. He would worry that, should something happen and Tavros needed to abscond quickly, he wouldn't be able to, or he would come back to the hive to find Tavros lying in a pool of rust blood—or, worse, a smear of blood where he'd been with his body already dragged away.

But it never happened. Three sweeps had come and gone since they inadvertently met The Princess and The Young Highblood and nothing bad had happened—at least not to him or Tavros. Everyone else, though...

"Rufioh?"

Tavros shuffled into their shared respiteblock, looking nervous. That was a common expression on his face, though—Rufioh was fairly certain he'd accidentally given him that look.

"What is it?" He automatically reached out for Tavros, who hugged him tightly for a moment.

"Remember what I was telling you about a few months ago?"

"You told me about a lot of things, kid. What do you mean?"

"About that preacher. The Signless."

_Oh._ This again. "Yes, I remember you telling me about him." Tavros had expressed an interest in going to see him when he made his way to their area. Apparently The Signless had a thing for traveling around with his small entourage, including his brother (they called him The Singular), a jade-blood (it was rumored that she'd raised him and his brother), a pair of olive-bloods (his matesprit and her brother) and a mustard-blood with crazy psionic powers. Rufioh could understand the appeal, especially when the whole planet, it seemed, was talking about The Signless's message. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew the coldbloods wouldn't be so open to it, especially when a lot of people seemed to twist The Signless's words to mean rebellion. The Defenders and E%ecutors could show up at any gathering and start culling people left and right. It was dangerous.

"Well... he's going to be here tomorrow. At least, that's what I heard in the cluster."

"And you wanna go?"

Tavros paused a moment before nodding tentatively.

Rufioh sighed. He knew he should say no—it was too risky, there was too much chance that they could be caught and executed. The Defenders were already starting to round up other rebellious lowbloods and it would only be a matter of time before they came to The Signless and his followers.

But at the same time, he knew Tavros. He wouldn't be content with staying at the hive when The Signless was so close. He would sneak out and go hear him preach no matter what Rufioh said.

"Okay, kid. We'll go. _Together_ ," he added deliberately. "At the first sign of trouble, though, we're bailing. I'm not letting either of us get culled, okay?"

Tavros's face split into a wide grin and he nodded quickly, his hair flopping into his eyes.

"Calm down, kid, you're gonna give yourself a concussion," Rufioh laughed. He smoothed back Tavros's hair. "You need a trim anyway. Gotta look nice for the preacher, right?"

* * *

Tavros couldn't stop running a hand over his hair, even after swinging his cloak over his shoulders. His preferred style was a strip right between his horns with the rest shaved on the sides, and Rufioh actually thought it looked really cool, but it wasn't his style. He liked the bit of red he was able to put into it, right at the tips.

"Alright, kid, let's get your hood on."

This was always frustrating. Both of them were cursed with wide, ungainly horns that made regular hoods essentially impossible for them to wear. Rufioh had come up with a solution awhile ago that worked pretty well involving an irritating number of buttons. It involved cutting a regular hood along the sides from the bottom to where the holes for a person's horns usually went, putting on the hood, and then buttoning up the cut part with four buttons on either side. It was an arduous process, really, but they didn't really have a choice, not if they wanted to remain inconspicuous.

Not that their horns weren't a dead giveaway in the first place. They were prominent and immediately recognizable and sure, if their horns were a little smaller, they'd be extremely attractive, but with the size, they were really just a huge burden. Besides, when Rufioh flirted, he preferred to rely on his smile.

It took a few minutes to get Tavros buttoned into his hood, and then Rufioh had to sit down so Tavros could help him with his. It was annoying that it was a two-person task, but it was fortunate that there were two of them. _I can't get culled. Who's gonna help him with his hood?_

They left the hive quickly, keeping their heads down. Tavros had to lead the way to the venue because Rufioh had no idea where it was, but that was fine. It let him keep an eye out for impending danger. He didn't catch sight of any blue-bloods, but it still worried him. They could be anywhere, just watching them.

The crowd waiting to hear The Signless was pretty huge—it looked like nearly the whole hive cluster had turned up to see him. It simultaneously reassured him and worried him. After all, a mob this big was sure to attract highblooded attention, but at the same time, with so many people, it would be that much easier for the two of them to slip away if necessary. He imagined the chaos that might ensue if Defenders or E%ecutors came through and started making arrests. It would be utter madness.

All at once, the crowd hushed and the atmosphere seemed to crackle with energy. He could feel a presence approaching, something familiar and distant at the same time. He'd just started to turn when he felt a tug on his cloak.

He turned. "What is it, kid?"

Tavros stood on his tiptoes. "I can't see. Can I sit on your shoulders?"

Rufioh nodded and crouched down. "Sure, kid. Climb on up."

His younger brother hopped onto his back and scooted to his shoulders, being careful not to use Rufioh's horns as leverage. Once Tavros's feet were dangling in front of his chest, Rufioh stood back up gingerly. Tavros wasn't incredibly heavy, but Rufioh wasn't used to supporting quite that much weight.

The crowd parted and a young man in a gray hooded cloak strode forward. "That's him!" Tavros hissed. "That's The Signless!"

He certainly wasn't what Rufioh had been expecting. He was a little shorter than average, and he looked younger than he really was, but when he finally got to the front and faced them, there was something about him, something in his features that bespoke of a wisdom beyond his sweeps.

"My people," he started. "Not too long ago, a certain blue-blood culled a number of us. I think you all know who that blue-blood was."

The crowd whispered for a few moments before The Signless held out his hands for quiet. The mob responded immediately and fell silent.

"The Grand Highblood sent a legislacerator to apprehend the culprit of these brutal murders, a Neophyte named Redglare. I know of her and I have the utmost confidence that she'll be able to bring the killer to justice.

"My point is this, my people. The highbloods _are_ starting to listen. I know that people have begun to advocate violence against the upper caste. People want a bloody revolution! People want blue-blooded heads rolling down the paths! People want to make them suffer as we have suffered for so long! But please believe me when I say that it isn't—"

He froze, staring over the heads of the crowd. Before Rufioh could turn to see what he was seeing, The Signless shouted, "Run, everyone! E%ecutors!"

He couldn't do anything but obey. The crowd split apart, screaming and shoving, and without a backwards glance, Rufioh was running, practically flying, hanging onto Tavros's legs and yelling to him to hang on tight.

"To _what_?!"

"My horns!"

Tavros grabbed on and it was all kinds of uncomfortable, half pain and half pleasure that he didn't want to experience, not right now, but there was _no time_ , no time at all to stop and set Tavros down and he wasn't even that strong of a runner anyway, this was the fastest way. He heard the sounds of arrows being loosed, arrows finding their targets, arrows missing their marks, but he kept running, heading for the nature assemblage. Tavros was whimpering, nearly crying, but Rufioh just kept running.

"It's okay, kid, it's okay," he breathed as they reached the edge of the nature assemblage. "We're okay, we're gonna be fine, it's all okay."

The hive cluster faded from sight and Rufioh dropped to his knees to let Tavros down. He cupped his younger brother's face and looked him over. "Were you hit? Are you hurt?"

Tavros shook his head, his eyes wide and threatening to run over with tears.

"Okay, okay." Rufioh closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. "I _knew_ that was gonna happen, I just knew it." He opened his eyes. "We gotta leave, kid. We have to run. Those E%ecutors are gonna be back, and they're gonna hunt down everyone in the hive cluster."

Tavros looked over his shoulder. "What if The Signless didn't make it?"

"Tav." Rufioh pulled his brother's head around to face him. "Listen to me. _I do not care._ I don't give a damn if The Signless didn't make it right now because right now, _you_ are my responsibility. He is not. _You_ are the person I have to protect. _You_ are the person I promised to keep safe. Not him. Understand?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I understand."

"And it's not that I don't agree with him, because I _do_ , he's right, there's something so fucked-up about the system and I know it. But you are the most important person to me, okay?" He started rambling without meaning to, tears stinging his eyes. "I couldn't save Iveria or Bosmic or Yalena or even Clorin, God damn it, but I have to save you. I can't fail you, too, Tavros. I'm gonna give everything to protect you." He let out a choked sob and pulled Tavros to him in a tight hug. "I'm gonna save you. Now let's go."

"Okay. I'm sorry," Tavros added softly. "I didn't know—"

"It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Let's just go."

And so they left, driven out of their hive cluster and into the wilderness. Rufioh just hoped he knew what he was doing.


	31. REDSHINE

_**Redshine** _

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Mituna wheezed. "Sol? Sollux?"

Slowly, his brother opened his eyes, gave him a condescending look, and bopped him on the head. "It's just a flesh wound, Tuna. Calm down. I'm gonna live."

"Hey, fuck off." Mituna whirled around to face The Signless. "I thought you told me he'd be safe!"

"He was supposed to be," the preacher said quietly. "I thought I would be the only target. I'm sorry—I thought the rest of you would be unharmed," he said, now addressing the whole group.

The Disciple and The Follower sat on the ground, clinging to each other, and the six-sweep-old Singular was being cradled by The Dolorosa. All of them looked numb and confused—they'd never come so close to the E%ecutors before. The Signless kept looking from one to another to another, into each of their faces in turn, as if unsure that they were really there, that they'd made it through unharmed.

Unharmed, that was, save for the arrow sticking out of Sollux's leg. Every time Mituna saw it, he got angry again—angry at The Signless, angry at Sollux, angry at himself for not being there. Why hadn't Sollux used his ability in order to shield himself? Or all of them, for that matter? Had it not even occurred to him? Why hadn't _he_ been there to watch out for them? Why did The Signless have to go to that particular hive cluster to spread his message? Why did Sollux have to join this guy in the first place?

He could have let Sollux just go by himself, traipsing to the ends of the planet in the hopes of changing the impossible, but the idea of being separated from his brother, his moirail, his _twin_ was physically painful. He wouldn't do it. He had to stay with Sollux. His emotional stability required it.

He didn't even want to think about what might have happened if Sollux had been killed. If that arrow had been a little higher, he might be alone right now.

All he knew was that nine and a half sweeps wasn't nearly enough. If he'd lost his brother, he'd lose his mind, too.

Mustard-yellow sweat beaded up on Sollux's forehead and rolled down his face. He tried to sit up but had to grab onto Mituna's arm with a grip so tight it cut off his circulation.

"You need to just lay back," Mituna murmured.

Sollux cast a sharp glare at his right leg. He had it bent at the knee and blood was still dribbling from his calf where the arrow was protruding. "Great. Can someone get this fucking arrow out of my leg already? It doesn't feel all that amazing and I kind of want to walk in the near future."

The Follower scrambled forward and tore a strip from the bottom of his cloak. He handed the rest of the cloak to Mituna and said, "Have him bite down on that. It's gonna hurt a lot," he added to Sollux.

His brother simply nodded. "Just get it over with. I don't care."

Mituna shoved a bunch of the cloak's fabric into Sollux's mouth as The Signless came over to support Blueglow from behind. The Follower motioned for The Disciple to come over—Mituna didn't know their real names (Sollux did, though), and he didn't care. He didn't want to know.

"Hold his leg steady," he instructed her. "He's gonna thrash." The Follower looked over at The Dolorosa. "You may want to take him away for a little while. This is gonna be bloody."

"I'm six," The Singular said, crossing his arms. "I'm not a wiggler who needs to be coddled. I can handle a bit of blood."

The Follower huffed slightly. "Alright, kid. Don't say I didn't warn you." He looked back at Sollux. "Ready, Sollux?"

Sollux paused for a half a second before nodding, already gritting his teeth on The Follower's cloak.

"Alright. First I need to break the arrow. This won't be so bad." He turned to the arrow and snapped the head off. Mituna could see already where this was headed—he was going to pull the arrow out from the back. That would work.

The Follower tossed the arrowhead aside and put his hand on the back of the arrow. "Alright. Now comes the shitty part. Nep, hang onto his ankle. Ready?" he asked Sollux.

Sollux nodded.

"On three. One—" Instead of waiting until three, waiting until Sollux could tense up, he pulled down smoothly, withdrawing the wooden arrow with a fresh gush of blood. Sollux screamed into the fabric, the tendons in his neck bulging, his nails finding and digging into Mituna's thigh, and he leaned over his brother.

"It's okay," he murmured into his ear, starting to stroke Sollux's hair. "You're gonna be fine, it's just a little pain. You've lived through worse, remember? Remember that time you fell from the top of that hive and hit your head? Yeah, brother, I could feel that, too, and trust me, this is nothing. You're gonna be okay." He became dimly aware that Sollux wasn't screaming anymore, just whimpering faintly, his mismatched eyes locked on Mituna's identical ones, and his nails no longer dug into his thigh. Sollux's fingers found his free hand and grabbed on. "That's it," Mituna continued softly. "Just focus on my voice, okay? You're fine, he's almost done." Sure enough, The Follower was already starting to bandage up the wound on Sollux's leg. "Just a little bit more and you'll be fine. You're lucky it just hit muscle, too. If it hit bone, you'd have been fucked."

Sollux let out a weak chuckle and let The Follower's cloak fall out of his mouth. "After this, I _deserve_ to get fucked."

"Hey, leave the comedy to me, dip-shit," Mituna joked, and Sollux grinned, although he winced as The Follower finally tied the makeshift bandage in place.

"Alright, all set." The Follower wiped the sweat off his forehead with his wrist since his hands were smeared with golden-yellow blood. He took his cloak of Sollux's chest and wiped his hands, his face, and Sollux's face. "It's gonna take awhile to heal. You probably should rest it as much as possible."

"It's not like I really need to walk anywhere, anyway," Sollux said. A moment later, he floated a few inches off the ground, his body supported by bolts of red and blue light.

"Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that," The Follower admitted.

Sollux gently lowered himself to the ground and sat up, leaning into Mituna.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

Sollux scowled at him. "It felt worse than it looked."

"Yeah, well, you made it through, didn't you?"

"With your help."

"Fuck, yeah. 'Rails before pails," he joked, holding out his first two fingers.

Sollux smiled weakly and touched his first two fingers to Mituna's so they formed a diamond. "'Rails before pails." His eyes closed and his head tipped back. "Okay, I'm just gonna pass the fuck out real quick."

Mituna caught him before he fell over completely and scrambled his think-pan. He could have just as easily used his power to catch him, but where Sollux was concerned, physical contact was always preferable. Both of them preferred it, actually. It made their moirallegiance easier.

"We can't stay here," The Dolorosa said. "We have to keep moving. The E%ecutors could be back at any time."

"And where do you suggest we go?" Mituna snapped, unable to keep his anger in check. "Our next scheduled stop like woolbeasts to the slaughter? Don't you think the coldbloods will be _expecting_ that?"

"No one's making you come with us, Redshine," The Signless said quietly.

Mituna let go of Sollux, supporting him with his psionics as he jumped to his feet and got right up in The Signless's self-righteous face. " _No one_ is making me come with you? That's a fucking lie and you know it! Sol isn't about to leave you and you know it just as well as I do! I'm not gonna just let him wander after you by himself, either—he's _my_ moirail, so it's _my_ job to watch out for him. Wherever he goes, I go, so _yeah_ , I have someone keeping me with you."

The Signless took all of Mituna's yelling in stride without so much as a startled blink, and for some reason, that pissed him off even more. He was sick of trailing after The Signless and his band of midbloods and mutants. It had been over a sweep now of following them, and while Sollux was perfectly happy risking his life, Mituna was far more focused on trying to keep the two of them alive. _That's_ what mattered to him. He was tired of being tired, tired of wandering, tired of missing home. Sollux didn't miss it, didn't miss their lusus, but he did.

"How much longer do you expect us to just follow you around? How much longer until we _rest_? We've been traveling for a sweep now—will it be two more sweeps? Five? Ten? The rest of our lives? Because I can pretty much guarantee that the rest of our lives won't be much—"

From the ground came a faint _shoosh_ ing sound, and a moment later, he felt a gentle papping against his leg. He looked down. Sollux was half-conscious, but he had a hand rubbing soothingly against his calf and ankle, and he was still _shoosh_ ing Mituna.

He gritted his teeth, but Sollux's shooshing and papping was having the desired effect of calming him down. The anger drained out of him slowly, and once he was sure he wasn't about to punch The Signless in the face, he sat down and leaned forward to allow Sollux to continue rubbing up and across his back. _'Rails before pails._ If it wasn't for Sollux, he would probably have gotten himself culled a long time ago. He was glad, at least, that he was here with his brother.

"Are you done?" The Signless asked calmly.

"Yeah." Mituna's voice still had an edge of bitterness to it, but he no longer felt the need to hit someone.

"To answer your question, we travel for as much longer as we need to—until the highbloods take notice and listen to us."

_Them not listening to you isn't the problem, them wanting to_ cull _you is the problem_ , Mituna almost snapped at him, but Sollux was still papping him, although he'd stopped _shoosh_ ing, and all Mituna wanted to do was bury his face in his arms and let his brother keep touching him. It was nice to just sit there with Sollux rubbing his back.

"It may take a long time. It may take until the ends of our lives." Mituna recognized the beginnings of a stirring Signless speech. He normally hated being spoken to like he was a crowd of hundreds instead of one person, but he let it go. Besides, he got the feeling that The Signless wasn't just addressing him, but addressing all of them. "But this is for the greater good. This is for the liberation of an entire people. This is for a future where the lowbloods of the world won't be seen as inferior. They will tell about us in history books for sweeps to come, our small group of believers, people who believed change was possible. They'll know all of our names. Even yours, Redshine," The Signless added.

Mituna really didn't want to listen to him talk anymore. He was tired of it. One Signless speech was the same as the next, but Sollux ate it up. _This is for him_ , Mituna reminded himself. It was all for his brother.

"Fine. Then we move on, right to face our culling?"

"We won't be culled there," The Singular said abruptly, taking everyone by surprise.

"How do you know that? You're just a kid," Mituna pointed out, as though he didn't realize it himself.

The Singular just shrugged. "I don't know how I know. I just know."

Mituna glanced down at Sollux, silently asking for confirmation.

Sollux shook his head. "We won't be culled there," he murmured.

Mituna sighed and rested his hand on Sollux's shoulder. "Alright. If you're sure."


	32. THE HANDMAID IV

_**The Handmaid** _

Her heart was breaking for them—for all of them. She'd never hated Doc Scratch so much in her entire life. She was essentially being forced to betray her friends, and sure, they didn't know her anymore, but she knew _them_. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting any of them, except she had no other choice.

They'd never made it this far in any other time line. Somewhere, someone had always diverged and sent the whole line skewing off in a different tangent, dooming it. She couldn't count the times she'd seen her planet erased or heard the screams of millions as their existences were blinked out in a fraction of time so small, only she could see it. All around her was death—it was the only result of her work. If she succeeded, a few would die. If she failed, _everyone_ would die. She didn't know which was worse.

But it wasn't up to her. She could only follow her orders and hope that everything would turn out for the best, although what "the best" entailed was open to interpretation.

She'd seen the E%ecutors coming for them, but it was too early. She did what she could to keep them away—put them in a time bubble, not that any of them noticed, and kept them there until Meulon finished wrapping up Sollux's leg (she'd physically recoiled when she heard him scream; it was a sound she would never get used to hearing) and the seven of them—Karkat and Kankri and Sollux and Mituna and Kanaya and Nepeta and Meulon—got up and continued on their away. Once they were a safe distance from the E%ecutors, she "popped" the bubble and left.

Left to go have them killed.

When she next slipped out of paradox space, she was in The Grand Highblood's respiteblock again. For once, the elder Makara didn't looked surprised to see her.

"Grand Highblood," Aradia said with the barest suggestion of a bow.

"Handmaid," Kurlas replied, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. "To what do I owe this motherfucking honor?"

"Your, ah, _Signless_ problem."

The Grand Highblood looked incredibly smug. "As a matter of motherfucking fact, my motherfucking E%ecutors just up and motherfucking culled them. Him and that motherfucking group he travels with, no motherfucking thanks to you."

Aradia sat down and tilted her head to the side. " _Just_ culled them? When, pray tell, was this?"

"A few motherfucking hours ago."

"And you've heard from your E%ecutors that they did, indeed, cull the seven revolutionaries?"

 _That_ gave Kurlas pause. "Well, not yet, but I'm sure—"

"They didn't."

"Prove it."

"My eyes on them less than five minutes ago. One of them was shot in the leg, true enough, but it was one of the ones with psionic powers. He's not slowing them down when he can levitate anywhere he wants. The rest of them are completely unscathed. I'd be willing to bet that the reason none of the E%ecutors have contacted you yet is because they're terrified to tell you they failed. So _I'm_ telling you. They failed. A few lowblooded casualties were sustained, true, but the preacher and his cohorts are alive and well." Aradia sat back and crossed her arms while The Grand Highblood looked like she'd been hit in the face.

"So. Are you going to up and motherfucking tell me what I need to motherfucking do to cull them, or is that not why you're motherfucking here?" she asked resignedly.

Aradia didn't get to enjoy herself much anymore. Fucking with Kurlas was one of the only pleasures afforded her anymore. Fortunately, it was one she could get away with because Kurlas didn't know her title (was she still a Prince in a female form? Sgrub didn't have a "Princess" class) or even how to harness it. Even more fortunately, as long as she carried out her tasks, it didn't matter what she actually said to the indigo-blood—she could be just as snarky as she liked. "As a matter of fact, that's exactly what I came to tell you. But don't cull them right there. It would send more of a message to make an example of them. Remember that jade-blood all those sweeps ago?"

"Of course I motherfucking remember."

"Have them brought here and culled in public. How long has it been since you've witnessed a good old public execution? It'll make the lowbloods think twice about rising up again, after all."

The Grand Highblood looked thoughtful at that. "That would be motherfucking true. Alright—we'll up and get a motherfucking public execution on. I missed the motherfucking blood anyway."

 _Right._ Aradia had forgotten just how bloodthirsty and deranged The Grand Highblood from her original time line was. Kurlas was essentially him, after all. "Yeah. Okay. Just one thing, first."

"Let me motherfucking guess. You want me to up and motherfucking send someone specific."

"Precisely."

"Who?"

"Darkleer."

"Why the motherfuck would I do that? He's already on a motherfucking assignment right now."

Aradia really didn't like thinking about Equius. It dredged up feelings she didn't want to confront, especially since she'd just met with him for the first and only time not very long ago. She forced her voice to remain steady as she said, "It's a simple matter of convenience, really. As it happens, he's the closest one to where they are. He has a battery of subordinates at his disposal. He's in a position to intercept the revolutionaries quickly." She shrugged in a deliberately casual manner. "Besides, he's the Commander. He should see this through to the end—including culling them. Well, most of them. See, the one of them, the one they call The Dolorosa, she's the sister of the jade-blood that was culled way back then."

Comprehension dawned on Kurlas's face. "So The Signless..."

"...is one of the mutant-bloods who escaped that day, yes. And his younger brother, The Singular, is the other one."

"But they were supposed to up and motherfucking escape, weren't they?"

Aradia gave an exaggerated shrug in a w _ell, what can you do_ gesture. "Unfortunately, yes. They had to become a huge pain in your ass for a purpose. But their purpose has been served. Cull them. Cull the two olive-bloods—the sister and brother, The Disciple and The Follower—as well. The other three, The Dolorosa and The Ψiioniix, well... The Condesce, I'm sure, will have ideas for what to do about them. The Ψiioniix, for example, would be very difficult to cull due to their powers, but they could be useful, and after all..." A bitter taste welled up in her throat. She absolutely hated doing this. "It's in their caste to be subservient."

"Fine. I'll motherfucking send Darkleer. Where will they motherfucking be?" 

Aradia forced a smile and withdrew a folded-up piece of paper from her dress. "Here. They'll be arriving in two days. If I were you, I'd tell Darkleer to get a move on." She slid the paper to The Grand Highblood and stood up. "Now then, I'll take my leave." 

"Wait, Handmaid." 

She almost sighed. She knew what Kurlas was going to ask before she asked it. "Allow me to guess. You want to know when I'll return next." 

'Yeah." 

"Half a sweep. That's all. I'll be back before you know it." She held up her left hand and snapped her fingers. "Just like that." 

Paradox space was replaced once more by Alternian wilderness. She sighed to herself and lingered there, reluctant to go back to Doc Scratch just yet. It was painful there, seeing the place where the wiggler versions of her teammates and their dancestors had been, seeing Damara still floating there. She hardly ever got to escape it, so for once, she let herself pretend that none of it was real. 

That illusion lasted for all of about twenty seconds until it was shattered by loud, obnoxious whooping coming from above her. She glared upwards before realizing there was nothing there but sky, and then she was puzzled. A moment later, three people landed in front of her, taking her completely by surprise. 

The three of them looked at her expectantly, but she was in utter shock. She had never once expected to see Rose or John or Dave again, yet here they were, looking like they were waiting for her to say or do something. But all she could splutter out was, "What are _you_ doing here?" 

John glanced at the others. "Well, I _think_ she recognizes us, at least." 

"Of course I recognize you!" she hissed, standing up to yank them out of the open. "You're not supposed to be here!" 

"Well, you're about, what, ten, eleven sweeps too late for _that_ lecture?" Dave asked, crossing his arms. "Which is _how_ many years?" 

"About twenty-three. Which is a long time, no matter how you slice it," Rose said. 

"I didn't even know you were here," Aradia said quietly, the only concession she would make to how sick she suddenly felt. This was _horrible_ news. The three of them here would mess with the time line, and they'd have to start all over again. She didn't know how many more times she could witness the destruction of her planet. What was even worse was that she didn't know how they'd even ended up here in the first place. "You have to leave." 

"We would if we could," Rose said. "Unfortunately, we need Jade for that. Our Space player, remember? And we can't find her. We've been looking for her ever since we showed up here." 

Aradia briefly wondered how the three of them hadn't aged if they'd been here for the equivalent of twenty-three human years (that _was_ a long time, she knew), but then she sensed the remnants of many time bubbles all over them and remembered that Dave was a Time player. He'd obviously kept them in bubbles. It would only make sense. "That's... awful. She could be anywhere." 

"Trust me, we know. It was a miracle we even found Karka— _aaaah!_ " John's words melted into a startled yelp as Aradia nearly pounced on him, overwhelmed by panic. 

"You _talked_ to him? You talked to Karkat?" 

"Well, yeah, what were we supposed to do?" Dave asked. "He just showed up out of nowhere—" 

"Oh, my God, no, no, no! This is fucking terrible! You ruined the whole time line!" Aradia backed away from John with disappointment flooding through her. 

"Ruined the—what are you talking about?" 

"He's supposed to—I can't explain this to you. Just..." She let out a groan of frustration and balled her hands in her hair. "This is something like the fifty-eighth time we've gone through this," she finally said. "Fifty-eight times. And I thought this one was going to actually work." 

"Wait, what?" Dave took a step forward. "What do you mean, fifty-eight times? What is _this_?" 

"This version of Alternia. It's not real—none of it is. Lord English tweaked our society to suit his purpose and he has this master plan—I don't know what it is. I've never even spoken to English and Doc Scratch doesn't tell me anything. But these events have never progressed this far before, and now it's all over. Again." She sighed. "What did you tell him?" 

"I don't remember—it was six sweeps ago. He was four sweeps old when we saw him." 

Aradia blinked, her panic subsiding. "Six sweeps ago? Oh. Well, that changes things. I thought you just saw him hours or days ago or something." 

"No—we've been looking for him again for all this time because we figured he could lead us to Kanaya. We need a Space player to get out of here," Rose said. "Of course, finding Jade would be ideal." 

"Do you know where Karkat is?" John asked. 

"Yeah, but I can't tell you that. He has a destiny to fulfill." 

"What destiny?" 

"He's... The Signless. I don't really know how to explain—" 

"I've heard of him. Troll Jesus," Rose said to John and Dave. "A preacher who called for equality up and down the hemospectrum. But wasn't he culled?" she asked Aradia. 

Aradia paused and then nodded, two quick jerks of her head. 

"So he—" 

"Yeah. And please don't try to stop it, okay? It has to happen. He was my friend, but in every instance of every time line, he dies. There's no way to change it. If you keep him from dying when he's supposed to, you doom the whole time line and he dies anyway." She sighed. "I do know you three can't stay here. So I'm going to try to find Jade for you. Just... try not to do anything stupid, okay? Please don't mess with the time line." 

"Wait. You know everything that has to happen, right?" Dave asked. 

"Yes." 

"Karkat isn't the only one who's going to die, is he?" 

Aradia shook her head. "Others will die, too." 

"Who else?" 

"I can't say. But I can tell you who already died—Porrim, Aranea, and Cronus. They're all dead already." 

"Weren't Aranea and Cronus Marquise Mindfang and Orphaner Dualscar?" Rose asked. 

"Yes." 

"But isn't there some big issue with Neophyte Redglare bringing Mindfang to justice? How can she arrest someone who's dead?" 

Aradia chewed on her lip. "Vriska took Aranea's place as Mindfang. Eridan took Cronus's place. Neophyte Redglare is apprehending Vriska." 

"Neophyte Redglare is Latula Pyrope," Rose told John and Dave, who were obviously not as well-versed in Alternian history as her. 

"Actually... Latula's title is Judicate Redglare now. It has been for a few sweeps." 

Rose's eyes widened. 

"Terezi is Neophyte Redglare now." Before Rose could even let out a squeak of horror, Aradia went on. "I'll find Jade and bring her to you. I'll be back." 


	33. NEOPHYTE REDGLARE IV

_**Neophyte Redglare** _

All of her searching had led her across the oceans, and now it was all over. There weren't very many pirate ships on the seas, and only one captained by a pirate with the distinctly crisp scent of cerulean-blue blood. She could smell it and the rusty blood of her lowblooded crew, even circling far above the ship in the sky. It could only be the _Blackweb_.

"Ready, Pyralspite?" Terezi asked, stroking her lusus's neck. The dragon let out a snort in response. "Alright. Let's go catch us a spider."

With that, Pyralspite gave a loud roar and dove, Terezi hanging on tightly as they descended. "Fire!" she screamed, and she felt a wave of heat roll over her as Pyralspite followed her command, exhaling a stream of fire into the rigging of the _Blackweb_. She could hear the screams of the lowbloods on the ship as they swept lower and she hoped none of them were hurt, but she couldn't think about that right now. She had a job to do.

"MINDFANG!" she shouted, jumping off Pyralspite's back and landing easily on the deck. "SHOW YOURSELF! FACE JUSTICE!"

For several long seconds, there was nothing. All of a sudden, she smelled Mindfang before the pirate saw her and Terezi whipped around, unsheathing the sword from her cane and meeting Mindfang's blow.

For once, she was grateful for her blindness. The smoke still stung at her eyes just as it surely stung Mindfang's, so she closed them, but it didn't affect Terezi's sight at all. Even through the smoke, she could smell the Marquise approaching again, along with her crew—although the lowbloods seemed far more preoccupied with the fire. Either way, Pyralspite had asserted herself as a barrier between Terezi and the rest of the crew, and no one would be stupid enough to cross the dragon.

"Give yourself up, Mindfang!" Terezi screamed, blocking Mindfang's next swing. "There's no one who can save you now!"

Mindfang grunted and swung again, but Terezi stepped back into the smoke to dodge. She wasn't going to over-exert herself—she'd let the Marquise expend all of her energy and then strike when she was tired. "No one can save _you_ , Redglare!" Mindfang yelled back. "Do you really think you can take me on all by yourself?"

"I'm not alone—or are you blind?" Terezi shot back.

Mindfang froze abruptly, and the moment she did, Terezi caught a whiff of a distinctly fruity smell that seemed familiar somehow... _How?_ She knew she'd smelled it before.

"Orphaner, go! I can handle this scum!" Mindfang shouted, and Terezi suddenly understood—at least a little. She'd smelled Orphaner Dualscar before, although where or when, she still couldn't figure out. But it didn't matter—what if she was able to apprehend them both? They'd make her a Judicate on the spot, she was sure.

Before she could react, though, she heard another voice answering, "Alright, Mindfang. Take care a' yourself." A few moments later, there was a splash, and the smell, the tang of something purple, faded into sea salt. _Fine._ Taking both of them together would be more of a challenge than she needed anyway.

"So, I see you two made up," Terezi said, returning her attention to the matter at hand. "It wasn't so long ago that you were leaving lowblooded corpses on a beach to pronounce your intention to murder him, was it?"

Mindfang sneered. "Something like that." She swung wildly, although her aim was off. The smoke must have been affecting her already.

"Not to worry. We'll bring him in later. You're our primary concern," Terezi said.

"Forgive me for only feeling _insulted_ that The Grand Highblood sent _you_ to apprehend _me_." Mindfang lunged again, a blow Terezi easily sidestepped before whacking the pirate across the back of her neck with the cane sheath of her sword, which wouldn't cut her skin but still give a nasty sting. "A fucking _Neophyte_? Who does she think she's kidding? You don't stand a chance against me!" Mindfang screamed, although she was visibly wincing.

"It's interesting that you think that," Terezi said coolly, gesturing from herself to Pyralspite. "Evil doesn't stand a chance against these twin hellfire cannons."

"Hellfire? What are you—"

"Pyralspite, glare!"

At Redglare's command, the dragon focused its attention on Mindfang, giving her a harsh stare. A half a second later, Mindfang screamed and crumpled to her knees, her sword clattering to the deck as she covered her left eye with both hands. An overwhelming scent of cerulean blood tinged the air, and Terezi knew the attack had had the intended effect—Mindfang's vision eightfold was gone. She was blinded in one eye.

" _FUCK!_ You fucking _bitch_!" Mindfang screamed, pulling her hands away from her face. Blood poured from her left eye and even from this distance, Terezi could tell that her injured eye was completely destroyed. Mindfang's eye now looked just like both of her own—bright red, pupil-less, sightless. She couldn't muster up any pity for the blue-blood, though. At least Mindfang still had one good eye. Terezi didn't even have that. "I'm gonna fucking kill you! You and your fucking dragon, you fucking bitch! You ruined my fucking eye!" she went on, unsteadily pulling herself back to her feet. She scrambled for her sword, trying to blink the blood out of her vision, but Terezi stepped forward and kicked away the steel.

"That was the intent, pirate," she said. "And I would _love_ to see you try to kill Pyralspite. Although I don't think you'd be up to the attempt for quite some time."

"Don't you fucking underestimate me! I am the Scourge of the Seas! I am death! I am the best fucking pirate the world has ever known!" Abandoning the retrieval of her blade, she swung at Terezi with her fists, but the legislacerator knocked her blows aside with the rest of her cane.

She swapped her sword for her cane and whacked Mindfang again, sending her reeling back to the deck again. "I urge you to reconsider that statement. Very shortly, you _will have been_ the best pirate the world has ever known." Terezi had been searching for Mindfang for a long time—far too long. All her pent-up anger was bubbling over, rage at having been evaded for so long, fury over those culled lowbloods whose only crime was being forced to serve a captain who would just as soon cull them as look at them. It wasn't _fair_. The lowbloods were treated so cruelly by the highbloods—who did they think they were?

She struck Mindfang again, secretly pleased when the pirate screamed but didn't beg for mercy. She didn't deserve any. She deserved death for every life she'd taken.

_All in good time_ , Terezi reminded herself. It was, after all, her job to make sure that Mindfang paid for her crimes. It would be sweet.

"You think you'll cull me?!" Mindfang screamed. "You bitch, I can fucking _promise_ you that it won't be me swinging from that noose!" She stumbled backward, one hand coming up to her destroyed eye again. "Culled by a fucking Neophyte—I won't let _that_ happen!" She suddenly dropped, throwing out her left arm, and before Terezi could make a move, Mindfang had grabbed her sword again and brought it up to her own throat in one fluid motion.

"You're not escaping justice _that_ easily," Terezi snapped, whacking the sword away from the pirate again. "You're going to answer for your crimes, spider-bitch." To punctuate her point, she struck Mindfang's shoulder, knocking her back to the deck.

She bared her teeth, grimacing in pain, but she choked back a whimper.

"Come on, Mindfang," Terezi said, sheathing her own sword and attaching it back to her belt. She grabbed Mindfang, temporarily paralyzed from pain, and hauled her back to her feet. "I don't have until the end of the sweep. In fact, you're long overdue for this appointment with the gallows."

She should have known that the Marquise wouldn't be taken so easily, though. Mindfang whirled around, seized Terezi by the neck, and squeezed while her other hand went to Redglare's belt to unsheathe her sword. Terezi's reach wasn't quite as long as Mindfang's, but she struggled all the same to free herself, hitting Mindfang's arm with all her strength, but she was essentially disarmed and she didn't have the necessary coordination to remove her sheath from her belt anymore.

And then she remembered that she'd brought her lusus. "Pyralspite," she wheezed, and somehow, the dragon understood her. Pyralspite stomped over to them and Mindfang raised the blade defensively, but the lusus wasn't even fazed. She opened her massive mouth and bit into the arm that was trying to strangle Terezi, sending a shower of cerulean blood everywhere.

Mindfang screamed again, letting go of Terezi and striking at Pyralspite's snout and eyes with Terezi's blade, but all it did was piss off the lusus even more. Pyralspite jerked her head to the side. With a sick tearing sound, a cringe-inducing pop, and a bright spray of cerulean, the dragon tore off Mindfang's entire arm and tossed it over the side.

For a few moments, Terezi lay on the deck, rubbing her neck and trying to catch her breath. Her heart was hammering. Mindfang's screams and sobs filled her ears; the pirate lay thrashing, probably going into shock. She'd collapsed, grabbing her side where her left arm had been. It was completely gone.

Something nudged into Terezi. She looked up and Pyralspite was standing over her, nuzzling into her. "Thanks, Pyralspite," she whispered, throwing her arm around her lusus to get back on her feet. "You saved me."

She walked to where Mindfang lay in a rapidly-widening pool of her own blood and slid her glasses off, crouching down. "Have I made my point, Mindfang? The Grand Highblood sent _me_ for a reason. Sorry to say that it was you who underestimated me. Now let's go. I'm sure the lowbloods at your trial will be thrilled to see you hang."

Mindfang's screams had melted into quiet tears. "If you don't bandage this wound, I won't live to hang," she said bitterly. She glanced at the space where her arm should have been and choked on another sob. "You fucking bitch, you better hope I hang, because if not, I'm coming after you."

"And if you do, I'll take your other arm." Mindfang was right about the wound, though. Terezi stripped off her cloak and used her sword, a few feet away where Mindfang had dropped it, to slice off two long strips from the bottom. She pulled the Marquise into a sitting position and began wrapping up the wound. The pirate was breathing heavily, leaning against Terezi's shoulder while the legislacerator worked.

Once Terezi tied the last knot, she helped Mindfang to her feet. The pirate meekly came along without even a token show of resistance, but Terezi was grateful for that. She tried to look strong still but she didn't think she'd be able to handle much more of a fight. Fortunately, Mindfang wasn't really in any condition to continue combating her anyway.

Terezi ended up slicing off the bottom of Mindfang's coat to use as makeshift handcuffs (she wasn't sacrificing the rest of her cloak for that purpose) since her own handcuffs were essentially useless now that Mindfang only had one hand. She pulled Mindfang's right hand behind her back and tied it with the fabric, looped it around the pirate's waist, and tied it again. Mindfang immediately tested the strength of the knots, and unfortunately for her, it held fast.

She sighed as Terezi patted her down and located three daggers—one in each boot, along with one strapped to her back—and threw them to the side. "Alright, Mindfang. Let's go," Terezi said.

She marched the pirate to Pyralspite and helped her onto the lusus's back. She slid onto the dragon's back behind Mindfang and said, "Pyralspite! To the gallows!"

As they took off, Mindfang let out a squeak of fear, but aside from that, she didn't make a single sound as they flew. That was okay, though. Terezi didn't really feel like making polite conversation with someone who would be swinging from a rope shortly, anyway.

_I hope Latula will at least be proud of me._


	34. E%ECUTOR DARKLEER III

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

The communique had come in early. He didn't know where The Grand Highblood was getting her information, but it wasn't his place to question her. It was his duty to follow orders.

He gathered his detachment and began briefing them. He didn't know most of them personally at the beginning of this mission, although he knew them now. Luminous, his second-in-command, was the exception, and he'd requested a transfer to allow Horuss to join his unit, but the request had been denied. Someone above him—he suspected The Director, since The Grand Highblood wouldn't have seen that request herself—had decided that the new E%ecutor Coldbeat was too fresh for a mission like this, and though Equius didn't agree, it wasn't his place to argue, either. Like it or not, this was his unit, and he had to work with them.

"There are seven of them," Equius said. "The Signless and his brother The Singular, both of whom are mutants, a jade-blood called The Dolorosa, two olive-bloods, a brother and a sister called The Follower and The Disciple respectively, and two mustard-blooded psionics called Redshine and Blueglow. Those last two are especially dangerous due to their powers, which is why we should incapacitate them before apprehending the other five."

"Why don't we just cull them?" one of the newer E%ecutors asked.

"The Grand Highblood's message said specifically that we need to capture them all alive. She didn't specify why, but I would venture to guess she wants to make a spectacle of them. She and Her Imperious Condescension have been cracking down on anyone who steps out of line lately, and considering the recent apprehension of Marquise Mindfang—" Part of him was slightly bitter over that, which puzzled him. Mindfang was, officially, an enemy of his, but she'd never personally antagonized him. He'd actually been saddened by the news of her death and relieved when he learned it was just an unfounded rumor. Now, though, her death would become cold, hard fact. "—I believe they wish to send the message that no one, high-blooded or low, will be exempt from justice. I would imagine that we will be seeing a sharp increase in the number of public executions in the near future."

Luminous took over. "Agreed. Anyway, once we've taken care of the twin psionics, the others should be relatively easy to capture. The best method, therefore, is a two-part offensive. The first part will involve a detail of six to actually neutralize the psionics, three for each twin, using these." From a bag at her feet, she withdrew a pair of collars and held them up. "These will block psionic energy, rendering the twins far less dangerous. They'll still have the physical ability to fight back, of course, but that's where standard restraints and our own strength will come in handy. I have to believe that, since they've been able to rely on their powers for most of their lives, they won't pose much of a challenge once their powers have been negated. The biggest challenge for the first detail will be the sneak attack—catching the twins off-guard and subduing them before they can fight back.

"The second detail will be the final twelve of us. The primary target is The Signless, of course, followed by his brother. The mutants, above all, must be captured. The next most-important is The Dolorosa for actually harboring the mutants, followed by The Follower and The Disciple. All of them, of course, will be taken, but there is an importance in order. Of course, anyone else in attendance should be considered expendable. Cull the other warmbloods if you must, but the seven must be captured alive." She glanced at Equius.

He went on. "We know where the revolutionaries will be. We've received this information directly from The Grand Highblood herself. We have one day to get into position—and we are the closest, which is why this is our task." He looked from one face to the next. "The last thing to be decided is who will be on which details. I will lead the first detail, so I need five more volunteers."

Luminous immediately raised her hand, which he expected. He shook his head. "I need you to head up the second offensive."

She didn't look happy, but she nodded grudgingly.

One by one, five more hands went up, and that was that. He knew their job would be more difficult than their counterparts', but only if they botched it. As long as they stuck to their plan, they would be fine. There was no doubt in Equius's mind that if they failed, the psionic twins could easily kill them, but they wouldn't fail. He was sure of that, too.

* * *

They crept into position behind the crowd of amassed lowbloods. With a curt nod from Equius, the eighteen of them began dispersing into the mob, hiding their high-blooded status under gray and black cloaks. He never thought he'd be grateful for a trend like that, but it allowed them all to blend in without wearing their blood on their sleeve.

The psionic twins were easy enough to spot. No one had horns like they did—two on each side of their head—and they both had mustard-yellow bands around their chests. Apparently, in this crowd, the more low-blooded you were, the more respect you had.

He surveyed them both carefully. One had his calf wrapped up with a bandage. The revolutionaries had just escaped from another group of E%ecutors—it was possible they didn't all emerge completely unharmed from it. They could use that to their advantage if need be.

The twins stood together, talking quietly. One looked annoyed, but the other, the one with his leg bandaged, appeared to be calming him down. Equius wondered if they were moirails—it seemed likely, more likely than any other quadrant—and tried to decide if that would be an advantage or a disadvantage. It could go either way. If the E%ecutors captured one of them, the other might come along quietly lest they be separated, or the captured one could also order the other to flee.

_Catch them together. That's the only answer._

He saw Luminous slide in beside a male and a female who were standing near the twins. These other two had identical horns, so it was highly probable that these were The Follower and The Disciple, brother and sister. Which meant that the other three couldn't be far away.

A tall woman stood at the edge of the crowd, a few feet from a young man with nubby horns and his cloak pulled low over his face. _The Dolorosa and The Signless?_ he wondered. The young man was murmuring to himself, pacing back and forth, and the woman looked around anxiously, as though watching for impending disaster. It had to be her.

He nudged the E%ecutor next to him and murmured, "The Dolorosa and The Signless are in the back."

His subordinate glanced back, nodded, and subtly began working his way toward them.

That only left The Singular unaccounted for. He couldn't be far—he didn't think the rebels would be comfortable leaving one of their own, especially a mutant, by himself for very long. They always traveled in packs, these ones. Equius spotted him a few moments later, though. He was on the other side of The Dolorosa, holding her hand tightly.

A wave of nausea flooded through him. He didn't realize—The Singular was still a child. An older one, to be sure, but no older than six and a half. Of course that didn't change anything. He was still a mutant, after all, and would have to be culled. But still, something about it didn't sit well with him.

The Signless turned abruptly and strode toward the front of the crowd. The sermon was starting, and Equius felt perspiration beading up on his forehead. He couldn't help being nervous, although he had too much self-control to let it show. He was too well-trained for it.

The Signless began speaking, and Equius slipped his hands under his cloak to grip the collar he had stashed there. The other five in his detail knew to wait for his signal before they started moving, but they couldn't wait too long. They had to get this taken care of quickly.

 _It would be so much easier to cull them here_ , he thought, but he knew they couldn't. The Grand Highblood would be furious.

He glanced to where the twins were standing. On their other side was his E%ecutor with the other psionic-inhibiting collar. They had to move fast, take them down at once, or else everything could go horribly wrong.

The other E%ecutor caught his eye and Equius nodded. They slowly, carefully circled behind the twins until they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. "Ready?" he whispered hoarsely.

The other E%ecutor nodded. Together, they snapped open the metal collars, took two steps forward, and pounced.

Equius had circled behind the uninjured twin. He managed to get the collar fixed around the man's neck and shoved him to the dirt in seconds. "Fuck!" the mustard-blood yelled. "Sol, _run_!"

Too late. The other E%ecutor was only a half a second behind Equius, locking the collar and kicking the back of the other twin's injured leg to drop him to the ground. Screams rang out and E%ecutors threw off their cloaks, moving into positions. The other four in Equius's detail were at his side in moments with shackles, and they set to work pulling the twins to their feet and bringing their hands behind their backs. The two of them exchanged horrified glances that had Equius puzzled as he noted that they seemed to be talking without actually speaking.

Then he realized they could probably communicate with their thoughts. "Separate them," he growled.

Meanwhile, chaos had broken out. People were fleeing in every direction and arrows were whizzing through the air and varying colors of low blood was seeping into the ground beneath a handful of corpses, but he noted with some satisfaction that both of the olive-bloods were already in custody. It took another three E%ecutors to intercept The Dolorosa and The Singular, but he had suspected that they wouldn't make it very far. The Singular was still young.

The Signless was the most important, though. He looked over the heads of the lowbloods, grateful for his height, and finally located Luminous with a cluster of his E%ecutors. For a few moments, none of them moved, and then Luminous dragged out The Signless by the arm, cuffed him, and pulled him to the front of what was left of the crowd.

"Lowbloods! Now hear me!" she yelled. "No more of you will die today if you listen closely! The Signless is a mutant! Look at his bright red blood!" She reached down, wiped a deep, bleeding cut on his arm, and held up her hand to show the mob. A few people gasped. "He is a rebel and a revolutionary! He only seeks to fill your heads with lies and false promises! He and his six loyal followers will now face the justice to be bestowed by The Grand Highblood, and I can promise _you_ that she will not be merciful!"

Someone sobbed. Equius couldn't see who. Part of him wanted to tell Luminous to get away from there so they could just head back to The Grand Highblood, but another part of him was proud of her for taking the initiative to send another message. He suspected he knew where she was going with this, too.

"I know that there are many of you who fear us, and rightfully so. But I can assure all of you that if you stay in your places, set aside these notions of revolution and caste equality, you need not fear the arrows of the E%ecutors. Abandon your false prophets. Return to your lives, and you will live in safety. Now bid farewell to your precious mutants," Luminous finished. She pulled The Signless back to the E%ecutors while the other groups—the ones with the olive-bloods, the ones with The Dolorosa and The Singular, and his own group with the twins—finally came back together.

"Nicely done, if a bit theatrical," he murmured to Luminous once they were finally face-to-face.

"True," she replied, "but the lowbloods love a good show."


	35. THE SIGNLESS IV / THE TIMEKEEP

_**The Signless** _

He felt cold and sick. This wasn't supposed to happen. How had things gotten so totally fucked? No one was supposed to be targeted but _him_. He was the only one who was supposed to be in any danger—but apparently, the last time they'd encountered E%ecutors hadn't been an isolated incident. They were all targets, not just him.

The one E%ecutor seemed to be in charge—the blue-blooded male with arrow-shaped horns. He was the one giving the orders, and the rest of them were following them to the letter. He walked at the front, his grip on Redshine tight with another E%ecutor on the psionic's other side, and Sollux's brother seemed desperate to flinch away from them, but he couldn't. His hands were locked behind his back and the collar around his neck as well as Sollux's neck hummed softly. Karkat realized they were suppressing the twins' powers.

He followed behind the E%ecutor and Redshine with another E%ecutor walking between him and the first two. Apparently, the E%ecutors didn't see _them_ as much of a threat because they were permitted to walk essentially unbound. He held Nepeta's hand as tightly as he dared and tried not to worry, but with the possible, if unlikely exception of Kankri, they all knew they were going to their deaths.

The two of them were flanked by two more E%ecutors with a sixth E%ecutor between them and Meulon. Karkat would turn around sometimes and offer him a reassuring smile, which Nepeta's brother halfheartedly returned, but Karkat could tell that he was worried. And he didn't blame him. Somehow, he'd always known that it would end up like this.

Kanaya and Kankri followed, separated from Meulon by another E%ecutor. Karkat could hear his younger brother sniffling and Kanaya whispering to him, and his stomach turned. Part of him wished he and Kankri could switch places, that Kankri was the dangerous rebel and he was the innocent six-sweep-old so he could cry and be comforted. But he had to be strong no matter how much he wanted to just cling to Nepeta and sob.

Sollux was at the rear, as far from his twin as the E%ecutors had been able to get them. His hands were bound behind his back as well, and though the two E%ecutors holding him didn't appear to be any rougher with him than they were with Redshine, his face was twisted in agony. Mustard-yellow tears streamed down his cheeks and his mouth grimaced in a silent scream. Karkat desperately wanted to know what was causing him pain like that, until Sollux stumbled on his right leg.

_Shit._ The E%ecutors kept him from falling, but at the front, Redshine suddenly snapped, "He's _injured_ , idiots! You can't make him walk—you'll hurt him more!"

"If he doesn't walk, we cull him and leave him here," one E%ecutor, the one who'd made a mockery of him in front of everyone, said coldly. "His choice."

Redshine looked back in horror, and his eyes locked with his brother's. Redshine nodded once, quickly, and Sollux gave a nod back. Panting, he straightened up and continued walking, although gingerly on his right leg. When Karkat looked forward again, he noted with some surprise that Redshine was limping, too, favoring the same leg as Sollux.

He understood immediately what happened. He'd thought the collars the twins wore inhibited all of their powers, but apparently, it was just their psionic abilities. They could still communicate with each other in their heads and, apparently, they could transfer pain to each other. Useful, in this case. Sollux appeared to be struggling to walk less now, although there was still a look of intense agony on his face.

The E%ecutors didn't give a shit about culling them here and now. Karkat had the feeling that if their orders weren't expressly to bring them to The Grand Highblood, the E%ecutors would have culled them already. Which would be worse—dying now or dying later?

He tried to imagine them all dead. They would probably cull him first because he was, after all, the leader of the rebellion. Kanaya would be next, he figured. She'd been protecting him and Kankri for ten sweeps now. She would have to be executed early, too. Redshine and Sollux would almost certainly die after them. They were dangerous. There was no way either of them would be allowed to live, not with their powers and their beliefs. Well, Sollux's beliefs, but Redshine would follow his brother to the ends of the world, and that was almost stronger than any conviction.

Nepeta and Meulon would go next—he couldn't decide who they'd cull first between them, but they would almost certainly cull one and then the other. But it wouldn't matter at that point because the only one left would be Kankri. Karkat's gut twisted. Kankri would be last. He was the youngest, the most innocent of them all, and they'd cull him anyway—but only after he'd had to watch the rest of them being culled. But after all that, wouldn't it be better that way? Karkat couldn't imagine the kind of emotional trauma his younger brother would experience were he allowed to live after seeing the six of them die—brutally, he was sure.

_Please don't let them kill him like that. Give him a quick, clean death. Don't make him suffer. He's just a child._

He didn't even realize how hard he was squeezing Nepeta's hand until she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "Sorry," he murmured, letting go. Her fingers had turned pale, without even a hint of olive-green. He'd unintentionally cut off her circulation.

"I'm fine," she said with a small smile. "I know you're afraid. I am, too. But it will be over soon."

Karkat swallowed and nodded. "I know. I just wish I hadn't dragged Kankri into this. He's so young... And he won't even get a chance to live."

Together, they looked back at Kanaya and Kankri. He was still sniffling, his head down, and he kept dragging his sleeves over his eyes to wipe away his bright-red tears. Karkat's first instinct was to swoop in and hide him until he remembered that the proverbial game was up. They didn't have to hide their blood color anymore. Everyone knew now.

They didn't even have a chance to escape, either. Because Sollux and Redshine's powers were suppressed, they were effectively unarmed, and Karkat didn't doubt that whoever tried to flee would be culled immediately—culled or recaptured. He didn't know which was worse—they were all going to die soon anyway—but he hoped no one tried to run. He was going to lose them all soon enough. He just wanted to keep them with him for as long as possible now.

Not for the first time since they'd been captured, he found his thoughts straying to Porrim. He wondered if she would be proud of them, how much different their lives would be if she hadn't died that day so long ago. If she hadn't been culled, he, Kanaya, and Kankri wouldn't have left the way they did. They might never have met Nepeta and Meulon. Karkat might not have begun preaching. Would any of them be here right now? Probably not.

But she had died protecting them. She gave her life to give them a few extra sweeps, and what if by doing that, he would be able to change something?

The highbloods wanted to think that just because they culled him, the lowbloods would just submit again. They were wrong, though. Karkat had seen the fury and the passion in the warmbloods. He had seen how they craved justice. They wanted equality. He'd heard the cry of his people, the ones who were tired of being oppressed, tired of being abused, tired of being culled. No, the lowbloods would not bow down again. The rebellion wouldn't die with him.

The thought was somehow comforting. This was something bigger than themselves. Everyone would know their names, and they had already set the wheels of change into motion. Now, it couldn't be stopped—only contained until it reached the breaking point. It would erupt into violence, Karkat was sure, but after that would come the peace.

_We will be remembered forever._

* * *

_**The Timekeep** _

"Does anyone else hear that?" John asked quietly.

Dave's ears perked up and he followed the faint sound to the mouth of the eighth cave they'd inhabited.

Time slipped by around them, faster and faster it seemed, but time did not touch them. Dave was getting better at creating stable time loops, although he wished he wasn't because it was a mark of how much time had actually passed for them. Chronologically speaking, Aradia had only been gone for a few weeks, but for him, it felt like so much longer. But if anyone could find Jade, it would be Aradia. Aradia knew this planet and she would be able to feel anything that was different from before. Jade would surely give off some kind of aura that Aradia would be able to pick up on.

But if Dave had hoped that it was Aradia returning with Jade, he was sorely disappointed. "Shit," he muttered, staring at the band of travelers. There were more than twenty of them—he couldn't get a good count. He squinted—a large portion of them wore black and varying shades of blue, including one at the front who had horns that looked familiar... "Guys, look—is that Equius? Or is that Horuss?"

John and Rose appeared at his side and looked.

"Has to be Horuss. Equius's one horn was broken, wasn't it?"

"Maybe," Rose murmured. "But... oh, God."

Dave nearly asked what was wrong, but he figured it out right away. He recognized a few more of them. The two trolls at the front and the back with the double horns—that had to be Sollux and Mituna. There were two olive-bloods, a male and a female, meaning it could only be Nepeta and the somehow-male Meulon. Next to Nepeta was a young man with nubby-looking horns. "Oh, God," Dave whispered. "Is that Karkat?" He knew the answer, though. He didn't need John's numb nod of confirmation—they all knew it was him.

And behind Karkat and Nepeta and Meulon was the reason for Rose's horrified expression—the young Kankri as close as physically possible to Kanaya. Dave hadn't thought about Kanaya in a long time, but apparently, Rose had.

Kanaya was definitely older now, too. She looked pale, even from here, and her face was drawn. Dave didn't know exactly what the troll lore regarding this event was, but he had a pretty good idea that this group—Karkat, Kankri, Kanaya, Nepeta, Meulon, Sollux, and Mituna—were heading to their deaths.

John apparently realized the same thing. "We have to save them," he said immediately, starting to sprint out, but Dave caught him by the hood and yanked him back.

"We _can't_ ," he growled. "You heard what Aradia said. We can't fucking interfere with this. Messing with the time line is a bad fucking idea, okay? Besides, she said that none of this was real. Right?" he asked, looking to Rose for assurance. "I didn't just imagine that, right?"

Rose shook her head hesitantly. Her eyes were still fixed down the hill on Kanaya, but she was listening. "That is in fact what Aradia said."

"Look. Don't you think I want to keep Karkat from dying, too? He's my friend, too. But that's... it's not him. Rose, in this Signless story, who else died?"

"No one." Rose crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the cave entrance. "The Dolorosa was sold into slavery. The **Ψ** iioniic was conscripted to serve as The Helmsman for Her Imperious Condescension's flagship, the _Battleship Condescension_. The Disciple was allowed to flee with the Righteous Leggings—she was freed by E%ecutor Darkleer, who was later exiled for it."

"So do you think they'll only kill Karkat then?"

"I don't know." She brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes and finally looked up at them. "There's more of them now. Maybe just Karkat, maybe Karkat and Kankri—maybe whoever Aradia's working for threw the whole rule book out the window and they're all going to die anyway. But whatever happens..." She swallowed hard and wiped away a few tears. "None of it's real. Remember that."


	36. MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for bloody minor character death.

_**Marquise Spinneret Mindfang** _

Well, this was a bit of a problem.

She genuinely had not expected that Neophyte Redglare would actually be able to apprehend her. She'd underestimated the legislacerator. Her mistake.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Vriska had been _furious_ when Redglare's lusus had blinded her seven-pupiled eye, destroying her vision eightfold. It had been agonizing—hell, it _still_ was. Her eye burned like she had salt in it, but she couldn't blink it out. And then the fucking dragon had ripped her fucking arm off. She hadn't really been in a position to fight back after that and had been able to be captured, but her foul mood had been tempered slightly by the news that there would be lowbloods present at her sentencing. Her mind began racing almost immediately, a plan coming together, and after Redglare had bound up the bleeding socket where her arm had been, Vriska came along relatively quietly.

Still, she wished she hadn't told Eridan to go. He could have actually helped her out against Redglare. Maybe, with his help, she might not have been captured—or lost her eye and arm. She had an idea for a new arm, but as for her eye, there was no hope. The all-seeing cueball was useless to her now. Nothing could bring back her vision eightfold, the last thing that had truly marked her as Aranea's sister, and that was the lone thought that made her want to bury her face in her remaining hand and cry.

Soaring through the air had caused a whole new set of problems. She'd never flown before and while she was no longer susceptible to seasickness, airsickness was apparently a different story. It took her nearly an hour to get used to flying, squeezing the sides of Redglare's lusus with her knees and reluctantly gripping the legislacerator's leg to keep her balance. Eventually, though, she realized that Redglare wasn't about to let her fall and she relaxed slightly. _Good._ She didn't know how long it would be until they landed wherever it was they were supposed to land (and how Redglare knew where they were going was beyond Vriska—she'd seen the bright-red eyes behind those red glasses and realized that Redglare herself was blind), but the longer it was, the better. Vriska already had a plan almost fully formulated, but it would take a bit more refining, especially what happened after she managed to escape. His Honorable Tyranny wouldn't be taken down easily, but if she could disarm Redglare before she escaped, she might have a chance.

She counted herself lucky, at least, that Redglare's beast of a lusus had taken her left arm and not her right arm. Even though Eridan was left-handed (she'd fought against him enough now to realize he was more comfortable with his sword in his left hand), she wasn't, and she wondered where she would be if she had to learn to fight left-handed. She could have asked Eridan for help, she supposed, but the thought of asking that sea-dwelling douche-fin for anything made her sick. He was her _kismesis—_ she couldn't expose a flicker of vulnerability to him.

She must have dozed off at some point, because when she woke up, it was to her stomach rising in her throat as they descended. She blinked at the rapidly-approaching ground and braced herself for impact, but Redglare's lusus slowed the closer they got until she was beating her wings a few feet off the ground and gently descending. She barely had a chance to catch her breath before Redglare was sliding from the dragon's back and tugging Vriska with her. She stumbled as she fell, but the legislacerator's grip was stronger than she expected, and she managed to keep her feet beneath her.

"What's the rush, Redglare?" she asked tauntingly. "You really want to cull me that fast?"

"The sooner you're out of my hair, the better," Redglare answered.

"Don't I even get a last meal or something? I thought all condemned prisoners had that."

The legislacerator snorted as though Vriska had told a riotously funny joke. "Not a chance, Mindfang. If you wanted a last meal, you should have eaten on the _Blackweb_."

_I will get back to you, I promise_ , Vriska thought. She'd never been so far from her ship in her life, and she hated it. She already missed the gentle rocking and soothing sounds of waves beating against the side, the feel of the worn wooden decks beneath her bare feet as she dueled with Dualscar, the smell of the sea on him, in the air, permeating into every space of the ship. _Nothing will keep me away._

Redglare pulled her along, and Vriska tried to brush her bangs back from her eyes and wondered why she couldn't until she remembered that her arm was gone, that was why her shoulder throbbed and ached—she'd managed to forget for a few moments. True, she felt off-balance, but she found herself listing unconsciously to the left to compensate. _I need to get a new arm soon._ Darkleer's brother The Engineer would be able to make one for her—of that, she had no doubts. Aranea had told her about both of them, Darkleer and The Engineer both. Darkleer was impossibly proud of his younger brother and his mechanical skills, so Vriska made a mental note to drop by and see The Engineer as soon as she had escaped.

She tried to engage Redglare in more witty banter, but the legislacerator was having none of it. _Fine_ , she thought sourly. _Not that it matters, but you'd make a shitty kismesis._ She was grateful that Eridan, at least, had an appreciation for wordplay as well as swordplay.

Would he hear about her capture? Would he worry about her? Would he think her dead for sure? She hoped he'd worry but she also hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to try to _rescue_ her. Redglare had already hinted that the highbloods were after him as well, and the last thing she needed was for him to get captured too and for her to have to rescue him. Then again, he knew her well enough by now. She could take care of herself. She wouldn't be culled so easily.

Redglare stopped in front of a portal and cast a quick glance at Vriska. "I hope you've made your peace, Mindfang. This is the end of the line."

_Spare me._ "Whatever you say, Redglare."

The legislacerator narrowed her eyes and pushed open the portal, shoving Vriska ahead of her into the courtblock. As Redglare had told her earlier, it was packed, jammed to bursting, with lowbloods from the peasantry to practically olive-bloods and everywhere in between. _Salvation._ She relaxed even as she strode across the block (without Redglare pushing her along, thank you very much) to the gallows erected in the middle. A single noose hung from the wooden beam, and Vriska ascended the stairs until she stood a foot or so behind the trap-portal under the rope.

The lowbloods jeered when they saw her, but she barely registered the sound. To her, it was cheering. It was redemption. It was freedom. _You love these lowbloods, Redglare, but you have no idea that you've ensured my freedom._

Redglare positioned herself in front of the gallows and held up her hands for silence. "Brothers and sisters," she started, raising her voice to allow it to carry into the farthest reaches of the block, "I bring you the pirate Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!"

The lowbloods erupted into jeering again, a solid wall of sound that had Vriska smirking in spite of herself. She'd let Redglare have her fun for a few moments longer. Besides, this was almost starting to sound like something from The Signless—she'd only been to one of his sermons, in secret of course, and while she had blood that wouldn't be mistaken for anything other than blue, she couldn't help but agree with him. After all, her power could have been considered a mutation.

She just considered it useful, though. Especially right now.

"You all know what she's accused of doing! She culled every person of her lowblooded crew and left them to rot on a beach! She replaced them as easy as changing her garments! She finds you replaceable, faceless, less than people! But you decide for yourselves! Is she guilty or innocent!"

The crowd booed loudly, and Vriska knew it to be a verdict of guilty. _That's enough of that._ Unseen to Redglare, she pressed the fingers of her remaining hand to her temple and closed her eyes.

_Lowbloods, hear me. I am not your enemy. Neophyte Redglare is the one you must execute. Do it. Now._

Rumbling echoed in her ears, and when she opened her eyes, the lowbloods were scrambling out of their seats and rushing toward the gallows. Redglare turned to face Vriska and grinned. "See, Mindfang? They crave your blood. They won't let your deeds go unpunished."

Vriska grinned right back. "Oh? You're certain of that?"

Redglare furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the side, but a moment later, her expression shifted into a mixture of confusion and terror as a swarm of lowbloods grabbed her and began dragging the legislacerator toward the noose, the very noose that had been intended for Mindfang. "What the f— _no_! Let me go!" she screamed.

Her plea went unheeded, though. A pair of lowbloods pulled the noose down over Redglare's head and around her neck, and her sightless eyes widened as she fully realized what was going to happen. She tried to wriggle out of her captors' grips, but under Vriska's mind control, all of the lowbloods had been imbued with greater strength than normal. There was no way she'd be able to escape, especially after they finished tying her hands behind her back. "Mindfang, stop this immediately! I _know_ you're controlling them—free them!"

"Oh, I plan to," Vriska said lightly. She approached Redglare, the lowbloods parting to let her pass, and she deftly slid Redglare's sword from its cane holster. She waved it to test the balance and frowned slightly. It was lighter than she was used to, but it was better than escaping unarmed. She tucked it into her belt and put her hand on her hip. "They're just going to free _me_ first." She glanced at the lowblood nearest the lever for the trap-portal and nodded. He obeyed her unspoken command and pulled the lever.

The trap-portal dropped. Redglare screamed, but only for a moment. Her voice was cut off by a sickening crack as her neck snapped. Vriska waited for a few seconds, just watching Neophyte Redglare hanging there, swinging slightly as her momentum stopped.

_Sorry, Redglare. Nothing personal. I just couldn't let it be me hanging from that rope._ Vriska headed toward the portal, keeping her control over the warmbloods strong as she went. She couldn't afford to relinquish her control just yet, not when they would have no problem with cutting Redglare down and fashioning a new noose just for her if they got a chance. She couldn't let that happen—and if she hurried, she might be able to avoid encountering His Honorable Tyranny.

She slammed the portal behind her and finally let go of the lowblooded minds. Even with the wall between her and them, she could hear a few of them screaming as they came back to their senses and realized what they'd done. _Better her than me._

She looked right and then left down the hallway, praying it would be deserted, but no such luck. Apparently, she was going to have to more than earn her freedom—there was His Honorable Tyranny striding toward her.

More beast than troll, he wouldn't know what exactly had transpired in that courtblock, but he'd probably have a pretty good idea since she was no longer accompanied by Redglare. _So be it. I haven't had a good fight in ages._ Not even her battle with Redglare had been to her usual standards.

He lunged toward her, bellowing wordlessly. She remained motionless until the last possible moment and spun out of the way, whirled around, and plunged Redglare's sword into his back between his shoulder blades. He let out a howl of pain and turned; Vriska managed to grab the sword out of his back just in time and came back to the ready. His Honorable Tyranny's black blood dripped nearly to the hilt of the sword, but Vriska had seen more than her share of blood in her life to be fazed by it.

His claws bared, he charged at her again, and this time when she stabbed, she aimed for his throat. His size was a disadvantage in the close quarters of the hallway since she was able to squeeze in close to stab at him. He howled again, his arms flailing, and Vriska withdrew the sword and stabbed again and again and again...

She lost count of how many times she shoved the steel into his neck and torso, her exhilarated cries punctuating every thrust, but she finally stopped when his blood flowed to her elbow and he sank slowly to his knees, twitching. Finally, he fell onto his back and just lay there, his eyes wide and empty. _Dead._

She pulled the sword out again and tucked it back into her belt. She brushed her hair out of her eyes again, panting heavily and heedless of the blood covering her hand. Her energy was fading rapidly—she had to get out of here fast. She wouldn't be able to fight off a swarm of legislacerators or anyone who tried to stop her.

She hurried out as quickly as she could, sprinting for the cover of the nature assemblage before Redglare's lusus could see her. She had to move fast, come up with a plan. More than that, though, she had to figure out how to get to The Engineer's hive from here.

The sooner she got a new arm, the better.

And hopefully, the next time The Grand Highblood sent someone to apprehend her, she'd send someone actually up to the task.


	37. THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD II / BLUEGLOW II

_**The Grand Highblood** _

The lowbloods must have thought she was an idiot if they'd believed they wouldn't be captured. Too bad for them, she was much smarter than she looked. While it _had_ taken longer than she expected for it, they still ended up apprehended by Darkleer, and that was what mattered. It was also true that Mindfang's arrest and the subsequent hanging of Redglare by the lowbloods (leading to Mindfang's escape and the brutal slaying of His Honorable Tyranny) had been a complete debacle, but her arrest hadn't been as high on the list of priorities as the apprehension of The Signless and his entourage, and her escape was something they could recover from.

Redglare's death _was_ , however, an embarrassment. It always looked bad when someone got the upper hand on a legislacerator, especially one as supposedly talented as Neophyte Redglare, but after Mindfang lost her an arm and an eye, she'd _still_ been able to escape. Kurlas's blood still boiled whenever she remembered that The Handmaid had _told_ her to send Neophyte Redglare instead of her older, more-experienced sister, though. The elder Redglare wouldn't have gotten herself killed. She would have just culled Mindfang at the first sign of trouble, but now Kurlas would definitely need to send someone to arrest her again—they couldn't let her elude them for very long.

Why had The Handmaid been so insistent on the younger Redglare in the first place? She supposedly knew what would happen in the future, so she must have foreseen Redglare's death. Had the intent been to get her killed?

Redglare's death had also cast light on something rather unexpected. When she was finally cut down from the noose intended for Mindfang, her glasses had been knocked askew and her eyes were wide and unseeing. Her eyes had been burned red, and based on the autopsy, they had been burned and scarred sweeps before. She had been blind the whole time and no one had known.

_Stupid girl_ , Kurlas thought bitterly. _She would have been culled eventually. Mindfang just beat us to it._ It didn't lessen the insult of having been bested by Mindfang (even blind, Redglare had still managed to capture her), but it did alleviate some of the disquiet Kurlas felt over the legislacerator's death. It could have almost been considered a culling.

And then her thoughts turned to Neophyte Redglare's older sister, Judicate Redglare. There was no doubt in Kurlas's mind that the elder Redglare knew about the Neophyte's blindness. On the pretext of informing her of her sister's hanging, she summoned Judicate Redglare to see if she, too, was blind.

It had only been a day, and the involved lowbloods had been imprisoned pending a more in-depth investigation into the specific events of that day. It seemed fairly simple—Mindfang's ability to control lowbloods was well-known—but they at least had to investigate it to confirm. Still, it was to be kept quiet until the official results were released, meaning Judicate Redglare would have almost no chance to find out before Kurlas told her that her sister was dead.

"Grand Highblood," Judicate Redglare said after a respectful bow. "It is an honor to stand before you. What would you ask of me?"

"Do you up and motherfucking know why you're here?" Kurlas asked, her voice a boom that echoed throughout the throneblock.

Redglare furrowed her brows in confusion and shook her head. "No, Grand Highblood, but I would imagine it has something to do with my sister, Neophyte Redglare."

"Motherfucking right."

The surviving Redglare's expression darkened. "I assume she's failed you in some way, and for that, I can only apologize and offer to take her place."

"That isn't motherfucking necessary. She did up and fail, but it wasn't exactly her motherfucking fault."

"I don't understand, Grand Highblood. What happened? Where is she?"

"Mindfang up and motherfucking hanged her."

There was a dull thud as Redglare dropped to her knees, her face frozen in an expression of horror. "She... she's dead?" she finally asked.

The Director stepped in then, correctly assuming that Kurlas wouldn't be gentle about what happened. "We've launched an investigation into what happened yesterday and so far it appears that Mindfang, using her power to control the minds of lowbloods, was able to manipulate them into hanging Neophyte Redglare from the noose intended for Mindfang. In the ensuing chaos, Mindfang fled the courtblock, killed His Honorable Tyranny, and escaped our custody."

Behind Judicate Redglare's glasses, teal streaks flowed down her cheeks. She was crying silently, trying to wipe away her tears with the heels of her hands, but the glasses got in the way. Finally, she tore them off her face and flung them to the side, rubbing at her eyes. "Where is she now? My sister, I mean. Where is she?" she asked numbly, opening her eyes and looking from The Director to Kurlas and back.

Judicate Redglare wasn't blind. That much was obvious at a glance. Her eyes were yellow and pupiled, normal. _Fine._ Kurlas supposed she could give Redglare a pass for not turning in her blind sister for culling considering the younger Redglare was dead now anyway.

"We have her," The Director said carefully. "Once the investigation has concluded, we'll return the body to you."

"Thank you," Redglare said quietly. She slowly got back to her feet and bowed once. "If you have no further need of me, I humbly beg your permission to take my leave. I'm sure you can understand that I require time to grieve."

The Director glanced at Kurlas, who gave a quick nod. "You may go," he said. "We will send for you in due time."

Redglare turned to leave the throneblock, and The Director called after her. "Judicate Redglare, your glasses?"

"I don't need them anymore," Redglare said, turning her head to be heard. "I only wore them for her. They hurt my eyes, anyway," she added with a half-hearted laugh. She left after that, and no one tried to stop her.

But if Neophyte Redglare's death and Mindfang's escape had soured Kurlas's mood, the news from E%ecutor Darkleer that he'd captured The Signless and his entourage brightened it. They were more important than a blue-blooded pirate, anyway—she stirred up her own kind of chaos, but hers was easily contained, whereas The Signless's chaos was one of revolt. That had to be stopped immediately.

The E%ecutors arrived with The Signless and the other rebels a few hours after Judicate Redglare departed. The whole group of them—E%ecutors and lowbloods alike—looked exhausted from the journey, especially the two mustard-blooded psionics, the ones at the beginning and end of the procession. They both limped when they walked, although only the one at the back had a bandaged leg. After the first Ψiioniic, accompanied by two E%ecutors, there was The Signless and his matesprit, the one called The Disciple. After them—Kurlas felt a wave of something she couldn't name, something _familiar_ , but she couldn't decide how. It was The Follower, The Disciple's brother, but she knew she'd never seen him before. She _knew—_ but when the olive-blood looked up at her, some small part of her knew... something. He was looking at her like he felt it, too, like in another life, they might have been matesprits, but...

_They're just prisoners, every one of them. Even him. They're all to be culled. There's no use in waxing scarlet for him._ She forced herself to look away from him, to the next two. The Dolorosa and The Singular. The child—he couldn't have been older than six and a half—had dried red tear-streaks on his face. The Dolorosa had him pressed tightly to her side, and neither of them seemed willing to let go of the other. He looked terrified, and rightly so.

The other Ψiioniic brought up the rear. He swayed on the spot, sweat rolling down from his scalp, and Kurlas could tell it was only through sheer force of will that he was still standing. _He's weak. He won't last another three days. It will be best to execute him early._ "Out-motherfucking-standing, Darkleer," Kurlas said. "Take them down to the motherfucking prisonblocks. I know a certain motherfucking waterbitch who'll be up and motherfucking delighted we got this scum motherfucking taken care of."

"At once, Grand Highblood," Darkleer said, bowing deeply. He jerked on the first Ψiioniic's arm and led the group out of the throneblock.

Kurlas couldn't keep herself from watching The Follower as they left, but he was looking back at her, too.

* * *

 

Her Imperious Condescension leaned back in her throne, tilting her head to the side. " _Whale_ , congra _tuna_ lations on hookin' the fuckin' rebels. I gotta say, I didn't expect you to actually do it. How many of them did you _net_?"

"Seven," Kurlas said to the screen with the fuchsia-blooded Baroness on it. "Two mutants, two olive-bloods, two mustard-blooded psionics, and a motherfucking jade-blood. E%ecutor Darkleer up and brought them down to the motherfucking prisonblocks already."

Meenah suddenly looked intrigued, her pixelated eyes widening. "Jade-bloods are rare," she pointed out. " _Shell_ pro _bubbly_ net a high price as a slave."

"You want to up and motherfucking sell her?" Kurlas asked.

"Yeah, _shell_ her. She's worth more alive than dead. And the psionics... I can use them. They still got their powers?"

"I motherfucking think so. Darkleer up and put these collars on them so they can't motherfucking use their powers and try to get their escape on." That was the _last_ thing she needed, especially after Mindfang's escape.

"Ex _shell_ ent. I can use them to power my ship!"

"There's a motherfucking problem with one, though," Kurlas said. "The one is in bad motherfucking condition. He looks like he's about to motherfucking die on his own."

The grin slid off Meenah's face. "Don't you fuckin' let him die! Those two are far more valu _bubble_ together than separate, espe _shell_ y if one of 'em's dead!"

"I'll do my motherfucking best," Kurlas said sullenly. "I'm not in the motherfucking habit of keeping motherfuckers alive, though."

"Keep him alive for another day. I'll come and get them my _shell_ f." The screen cut out and Kurlas sighed. _Sell the jade-blood and hand the Ψiioniix over to Meenah. Darkleer's gonna_ love _that._

* * *

_**Blueglow** _

His leg throbbed. His body ached. His neck was sore with the psionic-inhibiting collar they'd never taken off. His head was filled with the sounds of screams, seven voices crying out in agony and despair, seven voices he knew—

And then, just like that, three voices faded into nothing. There were just four left. His eyes flew open in the darkness, but he strained his think-pan harder, trying to listen. There was definitely Karkat's voice, still loud and strong, and Kankri's voice, still high with youth. Nepeta's voice stood out, too, her voice distinctly female in the cacophony of male voices, and Meulon's voice, deeper than all of them.

But no longer could he hear Kanaya's voice screaming, or Mituna's, or his own. Their voices were gone. _Oh, my God._

For as long as he could remember, he'd been plagued by the voices of the imminently doomed. The moment the E%ecutors captured them, he'd heard all of their voices echoing in his head, screaming for mercy or justice or just an end to the pain, and he knew they would all die. But something had changed. He and Mituna and Kanaya would not be executed. For whatever reason, they would be spared, but he had a feeling it would be a worse fate then at the end of an E%ecutor's arrow.

_Tuna. Can you hear me?_

The E%ecutors had separated them yet again, keeping an empty prisonblock between him and the block with Karkat, Kankri, Kanaya, Nepeta, and Meulon, and between them and Mituna's block. Sollux had never spent so long without even being able to touch his brother, and he had a feeling it was one of the reasons he was suffering so badly now. Mituna felt it, too. Sollux kept thinking back to when they were younger and when he could have even rested his hand on Mituna's arm and he _didn't_ and if he'd have known then that there would be a time when they wouldn't even be allowed to touch, he probably would have hugged his twin and never let him go.

All he knew now was that if he didn't get to touch Mituna soon, he would most likely die.

_Yeah. I can hear you. How are you doing?_

_It hurts. Everything hurts. I can't do this much longer. I didn't know they were going to do this to us._

_We're too powerful together._ Sollux could hear the sadness in his brother's thought. _They won't put us together again._

_I know that. I'd give anything to not have these fucking powers anymore if it meant they didn't separate us._

_I completely agree._

Sollux blinked back tears. _But that's not why I'm talking to you now. Something happened._

_What?_

_The voices... I only hear four._

_Four? Whose?_

_Karkat, Nepeta, Kankri, and Meulon. Not Kanaya's, not yours, not mine. They're still going to die, but we won't._

Mituna's response came a few tense moments later. _Why?_

_I don't know. I don't know what they have planned for us. But don't tell the others. If we tell Kanaya that Karkat and Kankri will die but she won't, she'll probably lose her mind._

_I won't tell. Just keep yourself alive, please. I won't survive if you don't, too._


	38. THE YOUNG HIGHBLOOD

_**The Young Highblood** _

His first indication that something important had happened came when the _Battleship Condescension_ appeared over the horizon, hurtling toward his hive at top speed. _Feferi!_ he thought happily. It hadn't been as long as last time since they'd seen each other, but it still felt like too long. True, she'd developed a habit of dropping by unexpectedly, but she was never unwelcome. He was always grateful for a visit from his moirail.

But when the roar of the _Battleship Condescension_ 's engines died down and the portal opened, it wasn't Feferi but Her Imperious Condescension who descended. Gamzee waited patiently until the portal closed again, his nose pressed against the transparent watcher, hoping against hope that she would appear, until it became obvious that she wouldn't. He sighed dejectedly. She wasn't there. If she were on the _Battleship Condescension_ , there was no way she would remain aboard, not with him so close by. Disappointment flooded through him.

But The Condesce was here for a reason. She didn't just drop by. And if something had happened, something that caused her to pay them a visit, it was the first Gamzee knew about it. Kurlas was keeping something—some _things_ , probably—from him. The disappointment he felt at Feferi's absence was quickly swept away with a white-hot anger. She couldn't just withhold information from him—he was her heir! Didn't she trust him?

Apparently not, not that he would blame her for it. After all, he and Feferi were biding their time, just waiting for the perfect chance for them both to claim their respective thrones. It would have to be done in tandem, of course—an immediate regime change, both the Baroness's and The Grand Highblood's thrones changing swiftly. It would be a coupe. The Condesce wouldn't stand for it if Gamzee rose up against Kurlas, and Kurlas herself would be so enraged over The Condesce's death—and possibly, rightly, suspect Gamzee of plotting against her—that she might just kill him in retaliation.

But Kurlas didn't know any of that. She might have still held out some hope that he would prove himself a worthy heir, but she had no idea that she'd already lost him.

He played his part well, though. He feigned submission, acting docile and compliant through the help of stolen sopor pies and Skaianet chats with Feferi. They never spoke of anything important over Skaianet, either—he was too smart for that. Either Kurlas or The Condesce herself could have been monitoring them, and after one of their video feeds had gotten hacked a few sweeps ago (they never found out who did it), they learned their lesson. Any planning they did happened during only face-to-face encounters, deep inside the walls of his hive.

He waited for close to ten minutes for Kurlas to summon him to the throneblock, but she never did. She should have summoned him to receive The Condesce herself, and the fact that she didn't angered him further. No matter. He knew ways around the hive at this point that would ensure he would escape detection.

He slipped between the walls of his own block and ventured past nearly two dozen blocks, turning to follow the angles of solid walls until he settled himself in the back wall of The Grand Highblood's throneblock, far behind his sister's throne. Fortunately, it echoed, and both her voice and The Condesce's voice were loud enough to carry.

"Where the _glub_ are they? I got a _glubbin_ ' schedule to keep," Feferi's sister said.

There were minimal Defenders stationed around the perimeter of the block, and The Director was nowhere in sight. Gamzee didn't trust him, either—he practically ruled in Kurlas's stead, and he wasn't convinced that he didn't want the throne for himself. The Director would have to go through _him_ first, though, and Gamzee wouldn't make that fight easy. But he wasn't here, meaning this was an unofficial meeting. Practically a secret.

"Not so motherfucking loud," Kurlas chastised her. "The Soporite's been motherfucking wandering around lately. He hears things that he motherfucking shouldn't."

_The Soporite? Who—?_ Then he understood. Him. She was talking about him. He hadn't heard that title in a long time—the Defenders were good about keeping him from hearing things like that—and he'd almost forgotten about it. His blood boiled, and for a half a second, he contemplated bursting out of his hiding place and killing them both.

But he couldn't. He was still unsure if he would actually be able to kill Kurlas when the time came—not for any emotional reason, but in pure strength and combat experience, she had the upper hand—but he definitely wouldn't be able to with The Condesce there. The Defenders would try to step in, but before they could, she probably would have already skewered him on the end of her 2x3dent.

The Condesce sneered. " _Water_ you waitin' for? Someone _else_ to tell him you _netted_ The Signless?"

It felt like a punch in the gut. Something else that had been kept from him, something important. The Signless had been captured. Suddenly, the whispers of Darkleer's visit the day before made much more sense. He'd probably been the one to catch him.

Gamzee didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. He already knew where The Signless would be—in the prison blocks.

* * *

Through a crack in the mortar, he was able to see seven huddled figures. There was one on either end separated from the other five with one cell between them each. One of the five in the middle cell was pacing the floor, rubbing his arms, and looking everywhere but at the other four. He stopped pacing after a few moments when the portal to the blocks opened and a small knot of Defenders entered.

The lone figure to Gamzee's far right stood up and went right to the bars of his cell. "Don't you fucking touch them!" he snarled.

Gamzee squinted. He knew this one from somewhere—he could feel it. He'd seen him before, but there was a haze in his head that blocked out his identity.

"We're not here for them. Their time will come later," a Defender replied coolly.

The prisoner's eyes widened slightly as comprehension dawned. He immediately looked to the side, toward the other lone prisoner, who had also approached the bars of his own cell. "You're here for us," the second one half-guessed. He lisped, and Gamzee _knew_ that he'd heard it before, but he kept drawing a blank.

"You can't take them!" someone else screamed. She practically flew at the bars in the center cell, knocking the pacing man aside. In the dim light, he could see that her cape had jade-green trim. "They're our friends—you can't do this to us!"

The Defenders ignored her. Six went to the cells on either end, opened them up, and dragged out the lone occupants. The one on Gamzee's right struggled, but the two blue-blooded Defenders were strong and managed to extract him quickly. The other prisoner made it four steps before he collapsed, and Gamzee caught sight of both the sweat rolling down his face and the bandage around his leg. Two more Defenders flanked him and half-carried him out, and while he was a bit taller than average, the Defenders on either side of him made him appear much smaller.

"Come on," one of them growled, hoisting him a little higher. "You're no use to anyone half-dead."

Both prisoners were pulled into the light and Gamzee could see that they both wore odd collars around their necks, silver and slick with blinking red and blue lights. Even more odd about them was that they looked identical—the same strange red-and-blue glasses, two pointed horns on either side of their head, the same mustard-yellow symbol on their shirts. Neither of them looked older than the other, and damn it, Gamzee just knew he'd seen them before, but it must have been sweeps and sweeps ago because these two still looked young and were clearly lowbloods and they would have been practically wigglers the last time, but their identities never came to mind.

The woman in jade green wept while the other two prisoners were led out. It wasn't until the portal slammed closed though that she dropped to the floor and rested her head against the bars. Another smaller figure approached her and curled up next to her while the one male—he looked to have a splash of olive-green on his otherwise black clothing—curled his hands around the bars and sighed.

"What do you think is happening to them?" he asked quietly, appearing to address no one in particular.

"It's got to do with their powers. I know it," said another voice, a different voice. Gamzee couldn't see him, but it calmed him down strangely.

Calm was a bizarre feeling for him. It usually only happened through the assistance of Feferi or, more commonly, sopor pies.

He knew by now that he wasn't supposed to eat them, but at two and a half sweeps old, he didn't know it. All he'd known was that it made him less angry, and that anger had scared him. He'd practically been a wiggler with a sister who ignored him and a lusus who was never around and scores of servants and slaves who were too afraid to even approach him, and one day, he'd just snapped.

He couldn't really remember what happened—he seemed to recall a crash of some sort, a loud clattering, and the breaking of sustenance discs, but he couldn't figure out if that had been before or after he lunged at that worthless rustblood and attacked, and somehow, even at two and a half, he'd been able to take down the fully-grown rustblood.

A lot of the attack was a blur, too. He remembered a splatter of warm dark-red blood across his face and the other troll's pathetic cries for help and the utter apathy he'd felt for the servant's life. He reveled in the screams and continued attacking—he may have been unarmed, or he may have grabbed something. He later learned the word _bludgeon_ and it was an accurate description of what happened. He bludgeoned the servant, actually feeling a bit of disappointment when the rustblood finally fell silent and stopped twitching.

And then Gamzee had come back into his head and he stopped and stared at the blood on his hands and the bloody mess that once been a servant and he ran, tears starting to stream down his face. He ran to his block and slammed the portal behind him and pretended he couldn't hear the commotion outside. They'd probably discovered the man's body, but he didn't go out to check. He climbed into his recuperacoon and continued crying and shaking. He'd never been that angry before in his life—he'd never killed anyone.

He stayed in there for days. He grew hungry but he didn't dare venture out. Eventually, he turned to eating the slime in his recuperacoon and that was it. Suddenly everything felt better and he stopped caring about anything really. He was able to pretend it never happened, and by the time he reemerged almost a week later, it really seemed like it, too. True, the servants skirted away from him nervously from then on, but Kurlas made no mention of it even though he was sure she knew about it. The dead servant had been cleared away and no one ever spoke of it, even if they all knew. But the sopor slime worked its magic and clouded his think-pan and kept him calm and stupid.

Kurlas tolerated _that_ for only a couple of sweeps until she discovered what exactly it was that was causing his sudden docility, and then he removed his recuperacoon from his block and brought in that bizarre sleeping mat for him.

He was afraid of himself at full rage like that, but as the sweeps passed and he grew to understand more what he would have to do as The Grand Highblood, he realized that this was how he was supposed to be. Down into his blood, he was a culler. He didn't want to be, but he was.

"What about us, though?" a different female voice asked. "If they wanted to cull them they would have done it with us... right?"

"I hate this waiting," the olive-blooded male said bitterly. "I wish they would just execute us and get it over with."

"Shoosh!" snapped the jade-blooded female. The kid—he was only about six sweeps old, maybe a bit older—curled up to her had let out a whimper. "No one's getting culled, darling," she whispered. "We're all going to be fine."

The child shook his head, and though he spoke quietly, Gamzee could hear what he said, carried across the block. "No. We won't."


	39. E%ECUTOR DARKLEER IV

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

This wasn't the first public execution he'd ever took part in, but he found himself more reluctant to complete this task than he'd ever been before. Even before his first culling, he'd been a bit nervous, a bit anxious, but he's also been desperate to prove his obedience. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to be obedient and loyal anymore.

He couldn't say what it was that caused it, either. Maybe because he knew The Signless wasn't the one causing the real problems—he'd traveled around Alternia. He saw the problems. He knew what was happening, and The Signless wasn't the problem, not really. But The Condesce and The Grand Highblood had chosen him as their scapebleatbeast, along with all of The Signless's followers, and he had no choice but to do as he was told.

He watched the Defenders escorting out the two mustard-bloods behind The Condesce and heaved a sigh. It appeared they would survive, although he secretly thought that just executing them here would be more merciful. But The Condesce wasn't about mercy, nor was The Grand Highblood. Those psionics would be useful, and that made them valuable.

He was strongly tempted to indulge in a pint or two to alleviate the guilt buzzing at the back of his think-pan, but he decided against it. The last thing he needed come tomorrow was trembling hands to throw off his aim, not when he had his bow and arrows to sling.

With a sigh, he sat down and tossed his dark glasses onto the work platform in the block that had been set aside for him. He would have given anything to be anywhere but here, and he was becoming more unsure of everything by the second. The young one, The Singular (that was what they called him, he was sure of it), he was just a child. The male olive-blood, The Follower, he was the oldest aside from The Dolorosa, but Equius didn't want to execute him, either. Or The Disciple or The Signless, for that matter. _What am I meant to do? I cannot simply disobey._

"Equius," a soft, unfamiliar voice said from behind him.

He spun around, getting to his feet and automatically reaching for his bow and arrows even though they would be useless in such close quarters. He paused though, taking in the woman in front of him.

The bulk of her hair was pulled behind her head and held in place with two thin, round sticks, although a few tendrils hung down to frame her face delicately. Her horns spiraled out on either side of her head, lending themselves to a rather fierce expression, and she had her arms crossed over her chest. Most importantly, though, was the dark-red trim on her dress, revealing just how low her blood caste was. Despite it, he could tell that she was definitely not a servant of The Grand Highblood. "Who are you?" he asked, setting down his bow.

She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything until a second later. "I'm The Handmaid," she said carefully. She paused for a moment, her gaze raking over him, but it didn't bother him. "You don't know me, but I know you."

"How do you know me?"

"It's a long story. I may get a chance to explain it one day. But for now... Tomorrow will be important for you."

"It's just a group of executions. I'm only doing my job."

"Equius." She closed the distance between them and he didn't ask her how she knew his name. For once, it was nice to not be called _Darkleer_. She reached up and gently rested her hand against his cheek. Her touch was so hot it nearly burned, but he didn't pull away. He hadn't realized just how cold he was until now. "I know what you're thinking. About The Signless and his followers. And I am sorry this falls on you. But you're the only one strong enough to do this, do you understand?"

"To execute a child, his brother, and their friends? Four people who have done nothing wrong?"

"No. Just three, Equius. The woman, The Disciple... you must let her escape. Execute The Signless, The Singular, and The Follower, but let The Disciple escape. I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't necessary, but it is."

"Why?"

The Handmaid sighed and finally dropped her hand. "I have been tasked with maintaining this time line. There are forces at work that no one sees, not even me, but I promise you that in order for things to continue happening the way they should, you must let The Disciple escape."

"Everything that... that has happened so far—it happened because it was supposed to?"

"Yes." She swallowed. "It was no accident that your brother became an E%ecutor like you."

_Oh._ "When I do this, he will be ordered to execute me and then take my place, won't he?"

"Spoilers," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze.

_Short and violent is the life of an E%ecutor._ "I see. Don't worry, Handmaid. Death has never been a fear of mine. The Disciple will live."

She looked up at him, smiled faintly, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I promise you, Equius, you will not regret it."

_I won't live long enough to regret it, you mean._ He didn't reply, though. He simply nodded.

She turned to go, but paused by the portal. "Equius. My name is Aradia. Maybe, one day, we will meet again."

"I would like that, Aradia."

Still smiling faintly, she disappeared, and Equius was left alone again.

* * *

The Follower and The Disciple had been extracted from the prison blocks without a fuss. They seemed resigned to their fates, although Equius wondered what The Disciple would do if she knew she would be spared.

The Signless came quietly, too, holding into The Disciple's hand as though it were an anchor in a storm. One of the Defenders went to split them apart, but Equius shook his head. _Let them stay together. These are the last hours she will have him._

When they took The Singular, though, The Dolorosa screamed and fought. It took two Defenders to restrain her, and by then, The Singular was sobbing. Equius's stomach turned—he didn't want to execute any of them, but Aradia had implied that The Disciple was the only one meant to live through this. The other three, The Signless and The Disciple and The Follower, were crying, too, but they remained relatively quiet.

Out in the field, the four of them were chained to posts while a small crowd gathered to watch. Equius paced about fifty feet away from them, partly out of reluctance and partly because The Grand Highblood and The Young Highblood had yet to arrive. Equius was sure that The Grand Highblood at least would be present for the executions. He was glad for the delay, though. It would give him time to think.

He had no idea how he would get to The Disciple to free her. It would have to be at the end, of course, after the other three had been executed. He could run to her—he had the keys to the locks on his belt—and unlock her chains in a few seconds, and no one else would be close enough to stop him until she ran, assuming she bolted quick enough. She would have to. She needed to run as fast as she could.

Then, only after she was safe and free, would any of the other E%ecutors finally catch up to him. He would immediately be taken to the prison blocks, Horuss would be sent for and hear of his treachery, and it would fall to his younger brother to rectify the situation.

_At least I will die at the hands of someone I love._ He preferred it that way.

Maybe it was his willingness to obey that made him perfect for this one last task.

The Grand Highblood and her brother appeared, and she sat down in a throne that had been moved outside the hive for her. The Young Highblood stood behind her and Equius glanced at him for just a moment. His expression was blank, as though he'd found another stash of sopor pies, but his eyes were bright and clear. He was completely sober, even if he didn't look it. Equius wondered how, wondered what it meant, but he didn't think about it for very long.

"Grand Highblood, I have the prisoners here awaiting execution," he said with a quick but respectful bow.

Her eyes locked on a point over his shoulder, but he didn't look to see what she was staring at. For a few seconds, she said nothing. Finally, she looked at him and nodded. "Get the motherfuck on with it."

"At once, Grand Highblood."

He'd spent hours sharpening his arrows last night. Four, although one wouldn't be used. If he showed up with three arrows and four prisoners, it would definitely raise questions. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it, drawing it back. Now all that was left was to decide who went first.

He looked from The Follower to The Signless to The Singular. _If only I could do it all at once._ It would be more merciful for them to die together, wouldn't it? They wouldn't have to suffer so much. But he couldn't. _I am so sorry._

He chose. He turned ever so slightly to his right and let the first arrow fly.

Only he had the necessary strength to make an immediate cull shot with a bow and arrow. No one else had a bow and arrows strong enough to build the necessary momentum to pierce through someone's think-pan and cull them instantly. That was the only relief Equius had when The Singular's head snapped back with the arrow protruding from his forehead. A dribble of bright-red blood flowed down his face, his mouth half-open in shock, but he was definitely dead.

The Signless screamed, a sound that was more from anguish than agony. " _NO!_ You motherfucker, he was a fucking _kid_ , just a kid! Fucking asshole, he didn't deserve..." He choked on a sob. "Fuck... Kankri, I'm so fucking sorry..."

The Disciple leaned toward him as best she could and began murmuring to him, looking for all the world like she was barely holding back her own tears. She glanced once or twice at the body of The Singular, but she kept most of her attention on The Signless. The Follower, meanwhile, wiped his eyes with his shoulders since his wrists were still shackled behind him.

Equius looked back at The Grand Highblood. She'd gone slightly pale, but when she saw that he was looking at her, she nodded. He had to keep going.

He pulled out the next arrow, feeling a few beads of perspiration beginning to roll down his temples. He already knew who would be next. He nocked the second arrow, aimed, and before any of the rebels realized what he was doing, fired again.

The Disciple saw a second too late where Equius had aimed. By the time she twisted to see the damage, it had been done. Her brother slumped back against the post, his entire body slack. A steady drip of olive-green blood fell from the back of his head, and she whimpered. "Meulon?"

_One more. Just one more._ Equius turned again to The Grand Highblood, but now, she was gripping the arms of her throne. She leaned forward, her eyes fixed right on The Follower, and Equius was sure for a few seconds that she didn't breathe once. Then she let out a sharp gasp and looked at him.

"The other two motherfuckers die tomorrow," she rasped. Surprising everyone, she stood up and went back inside, The Young Highblood following after her, looking puzzled.

Everything was quiet for a few moments until Equius remembered that he was still the Commander. "You heard her," he said. "Get the two of them back into the prison blocks." He glanced from The Singular to The Follower. "And take care of the bodies."

Luminous strode over to him, saluted, and said, "The transport for The Dolorosa has just departed."

_Oh. Right._ He'd been told the day before by a servant that the Ψiioniix would be handed over to The Condesce and that The Dolorosa would be sold as a slave, but the latter fact had completely slipped his mind. Now that he remembered, he wondered what The Dolorosa would have said when the Defenders brought The Signless and The Disciple back to the prison blocks without The Singular and The Follower. _She'll find out soon enough, I suppose._ "Very well. Oversee them. I've instructed them to get rid of the bodies and bring The Signless and The Disciple back to the prison blocks."

Luminous raised an eyebrow. "Curious, Darkleer. What do you think brought on this change from our fair leader?"

"What brings on any change she decides upon?" he half-joked. "I couldn't fathom, but I intend to find out." He returned her salute and went inside. If only to satisfy his own curiosity, he would speak with The Grand Highblood in private.


	40. THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD III / E%ECUTOR DARKLEER V

_**The Grand Highblood** _

She felt sick for reasons she couldn't fathom. She'd _known_ that The Follower or whatever he was called was supposed to die. She'd _known_ that Darkleer would execute him. So why had she let herself get attached?

No, not attached. She hadn't even spoken to him. There was no attachment involved at all.

So why was her chest aching like there was a piece missing?

"Sis?" There was a tentative silence as Gamzee waited for her to respond, but she didn't. It felt like she couldn't speak—couldn't even breathe. "Kurlas?"

She turned and looked at him. There was something different in his eyes. Something had changed. All at once, she realized that he wasn't the same wiggler that had gone with The Condesce's sister on a tour of the planet a few sweeps ago. Before her eyes but somehow unseen to her, her brother had changed. Whether for the better or for the worse, she couldn't tell, but it didn't really matter. He'd changed, he'd replace her one day, and it felt like her heart had been ripped out through her knees.

"You okay, sis?"

 _Weak._ He was weak. The Grand Highblood didn't have the luxury of caring, not now and not ever. Gamzee still had a lot to learn.

She straightened up and squared her shoulders. "I'm motherfucking fine. Those motherfucking lowbloods just need to learn a motherfucking lesson—" she grabbed Gamzee by his shirt and pulled him close, so their noses were only a few inches apart "— _do not fuck with us_." She let him go. He was getting taller still. They were nearly nose-to-nose now, although the mighty mane of Kurlas's hair gave her far more height. "Those uppity motherfucking lowbloods want a motherfucking revolution? Too motherfucking bad." An idea began forming in her head. "We are going to motherfucking bring in and motherfucking execute every last motherfucking rebel! DARKLEER!" she screamed.

To her utter shock, he was already striding across the throne blood and toward her, his footsteps muffled by the thick soles of his boots. He stopped in front of them and bowed low. "Grand Highblood?"

"What did you motherfucking do with The Signless?"

"He's back in the prison blocks, Grand Highblood."

"Bring him the motherfuck back out here. Have him motherfucking tortured. Have him motherfucking scourged. Spill every motherfucking drop of that mutant's blood if you have to."

For a second, she thought she saw Darkleer's eyes widen. "At once, Grand Highblood." He cleared his throat. "If I may inquire, however... are you alright? You seemed... disturbed after The Follower's execution."

Both of them were looking at her—Gamzee and Darkleer both. She could tell it was what Gamzee had been trying to ask before she brushed the question aside. The last thing she needed was either of them— _both_ of them—thinking she was weak for any reason. "I'm just motherfucking _fine_ ," she growled.

Gamzee looked doubtful, but he was at least smart enough to keep that hidden from Darkleer.

"As you wish, Grand Highblood," he said with another bow. He turned and went back the way he came.

"Get yourself motherfucking cleaned up," Kurlas said to Gamzee. "I want you motherfucking presentable for the motherfucking audiences today."

"Sure, sis," Gamzee said quietly. He didn't bow, but he left, heading off in the direction of his block. Once she was sure she was alone, she collapsed into her throne and stared at the wall. Everything was falling apart around her, and this time at least, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She ran her fingers over the armrests of the throne. She shifted on the seat, trying to imagine what it would be like, what the planet would be like with Gamzee sitting here. What would happen with her gone? What about when Her Imperious Condescension was gone and The Princess was the new ruler?It was still sweeps and sweeps until it happened, her death and the death of The Condesce, but still...

It would be bloody. Of that, she had no doubt.

* * *

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

The Grand Highblood could pretend all she liked. He could tell that something about The Follower's death had shaken her. _But what?_ He wasn't about to go back to try to find out, though. She seemed relatively calm now but anything could shove her firmly into the territory of murderous rage, and the last thing he wanted was for that violence to be directed at him. No, for right now, it was better to just do as she ordered and have The Signless flogged.

He deliberately didn't ask about The Disciple. If The Grand Highblood didn't specifically mention her, he could pretend she didn't mean any harm to the olive-blood. It was a lie, but at least he could pretend.

Luminous was still outside when he emerged from The Grand Highblood's hive, and her eyes immediately found his. She raised a questioning eyebrow as he approached. "Well?"

"I was unfortunately unable to solicit a satisfactory answer from her. However... she has given orders that The Signless be scourged."

"Just The Signless? Not The Disciple as well?"

"She only mentioned The Signless, and she was already in a mood, so I surmised that questioning her would be unwise."

Luminous sighed. "You're probably right. Do you want me to go get him?"

"No. I'll retrieve him myself. You choose someone to perform the scourging."

"I'll do it," she said immediately. "I know you don't want to, and I don't either." She crossed her arms and shivered. "I detest floggings. There's no need for it. A clean, straightforward execution is sufficient to keep the lowbloods in check."

"Agreed, but don't let anyone else catch you saying that," he murmured. He looked around. There were only one or two sets of eyes on them, mostly disinterested. The only kind of notice they were likely to get was from people wondering what the two of them might be talking about.

She patted his shoulder. "It's alright, Darkleer. I can handle a little more blood on my hands."

 _Yes, but can I?_ He squeezed her fingers as gently as possible—she was a blue-blood like him, so she was strong enough to not be bruised by his lightest touch—and headed toward the prison blocks. He had his own reasons for wanting to be the one to get The Signless.

He descended the short flight of stone steps to the prison blocks, pausing for a moment as he heard the muffled sounds of crying. He bit his lip. Equius knew why they were weeping—their brothers were both dead, The Ψiionix were gone, and The Dolorosa had been sold. All the two of them had was each other, and he was unwilling to intrude upon their grief.

He was becoming weaker and weaker. He sympathized with a mutant-blooded rebel and his mid-blooded lover, and all he could do was wish he had a different role to play in all this. But he didn't have that luxury. He took a deep breath and brushed past the pair of Defenders guarding the entrance to the blocks; they'd been sitting and chatting quietly but when he opened the portal, they jumped to their feet.

As soon as he appeared, a squeakbeast ran over his boot and scurried away. The Defenders looked surprised to see him, but not quite as surprised as The Disciple and The Signless behind the bars of their prison block. He knew he had to talk to them alone, but it would be exceedingly difficult to do without arousing suspicion. There couldn't be a hint of what was going to happen until it was already over.

Ideally, he would speak to The Disciple herself, but that was also highly unlikely. He couldn't pull her aside to speak to her—no, it looked like his only option would be to trust The Signless.

Equius turned to the Defenders. "I'm here for him," he said, pointing.

The Disciple let out a squeak and jumped in front of The Signless, her fingers curved into neat claws to protect him (he noted with a dry amount of satisfaction that her nails had been filed into sharp points), but the Defenders still managed to separate the two rebels, no matter how hard she fought and kicked and scratched (and got in a lucky bite). She was a fighter. For some reason, it made him proud. _At least I trade my life for one as strong as her._

"I'll be back," The Signless called to The Disciple as Equius grabbed him by the arm and led him back out of the blocks.

Once the portal was closed behind them, he knew he only had a few moments. He yanked The Signless around to face him. "I have a problem."

"Like _I_ give a shit?" The Signless snapped.

 _Fair enough._ "I have to save The Disciple's life."

For a second, he just blinked at Equius. Then his whole body slackened. "Why?"

"I'm afraid it's too long of a story to explain now. We don't have much time. The Grand Highblood wants you scourged, which is why you're not still in the prison blocks. But when you return, I need you to tell her that she'll be freed tomorrow. Tell her to be ready to flee. Tell her that no matter what happens, she has to run. Can you do that?"

"Just her?" he asked quietly.

Equius heard what he wasn't asking. "I'm sorry, Signless. I know you probably don't believe me, but I am truly sorry."

The Signless nodded, looking down. "I understand. If... if it had to be one of us, I'm glad it was her." He looked up. "And you're going to be the one to free her?"

"Yes. It was the task assigned to me."

"By who? The Grand Highblood?"

Equius can't hold back an unseemly snort of laughter. "No, it was... someone else. Like I said, it's a very long story and... though I am reluctant to hand you over, it will be worse the longer we wait." He began walking again, gently guiding The Signless by the arm.

"And what about you?" he asked, allowing himself to be led up the steps.

"Me?"

"What will happen? I'm pretty fucking sure The Grand Highblood isn't going to be too pleased with you."

Equius nodded tightly. "I would not be surprised to find myself in your place in a few days' time."

"On your way to be flogged?" The Signless sounded bitter.

"That, and condemned." He pushed open the portal to the lawnring. "If I'm not already dead by then, that is."

"Then thank you," The Signless murmured so no one else could hear. "If I didn't know any better, I'd call you a decent person."

"And I wouldn't deserve it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your brothers."

The Signless was silent for a moment. "I think I believe you."

"Try to remember that in a few minutes. Luminous isn't quite as strong as I am, but she's good with a whip." He stopped speaking as they drew level with the post that The Signless had been bound to less than an hour before. There were still blood splatters on the two outside posts, olive-green where The Follower had been and bright red where The Singular had died, but their bodies were gone. The Signless sniffled quietly as he looked at the post that had held his brother, faintly red tears welling up in his eyes.

Equius went to the back and locked one of The Signless's wrists in the shackles. He reached up and tapped the rebel's arm, and he numbly raised his other wrist to be locked into place as well. "I promise you, I will save her," he whispered to The Signless, staying out of sight of anyone who might find it suspicious that he was conversing with the prisoner.

"I know you will," The Signless murmured back. The side of his head rested on the post and he gazed dispassionately at the splotch of his brother's blood.

Equius got to his feet and walked to Luminous as another E%ecutor stepped forward to cut away The Signless's tunic. "You and I both know this is wrong," he breathed.

She gave an experimental flick of the whip. "Of course it is."

"As much as you can, be gentle with him."

Luminous nodded once and walked toward The Signless.


	41. THE DISCIPLE II

_**The Disciple** _

She hated feeling this helpless. Seeing the twins get dragged separately out of their blocks—she knew how much they hated being kept apart, even if Redshine didn't like _them_ all that much—and then later, when the E%ecutors came for them... Kankri's death, Meulon's death... Nepeta didn't know how much more she could take, but she knew she'd be next. Of course they'd save Karkat for last. But then, for whatever reason, The Grand Highblood had changed her mind, and she and Karkat had been brought back to the prison blocks only to see that Kanaya was gone now. Sold into slavery.

They'd both mourned, she and Karkat. Everything was falling apart, but how else could it have ended? Hadn't Sollux and Redshine both told them that enough? Harbingers of doom, they were, but they were right. So much blood—Kankri had said that, too. So she held Karkat while he sobbed for his brother, for hers, for their friends. They would never see any of them again. There would be no happiness once this was all over.

And then Karkat had been dragged out of the block—Darkleer, she'd heard the one called, had been sent to collect him. She didn't know if she was imagining things or if he was always like that, but he seemed to be in the midst of a moral dilemma. She imagined that choking down the highbloods' commands for enough sweeps would leave a bad taste in anyone's mouth, so maybe it was true, but either way, he seemed surprisingly gentle as he led Karkat away.

There was silence for several long minutes and she wondered where Darkleer had taken him. Then she heard a sharp crack of a whip and her blood ran cold. She dashed to the other end of the prison block, where a small crack at the top of the wall allowed her to peer outside at the lawnring.

The one E%ecutor, the one who seemed to be Darkleer's second-in-command, was striding forward, flicking the whip in her hand. Karkat was bound again, chained to the same post as before, his back bare and to the E%ecutor. Nepeta knew what was about to happen, but she couldn't tear her eyes away anyway.

The E%ecutor struck, the end of her whip cutting into Karkat's back, and Nepeta whimpered while he cried out. _I should have fought harder_ , she thought desperately. She knew it probably would have only ended in her death and it wouldn't _really_ have prevented this scourging, but she might at least have been able to take out an E%ecutor or a Defender in the process. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, feeling tears stinging at her eyes.

Again and again, the whip fell across his back, and the fiery red of his blood dripped down his skin and into the dirt. Several onlookers laughed and Nepeta heard one of them say, "Look at him bleed—what a freak."

Karkat screamed, and it was unlike how he sounded before. This was not a cry of pain, but one of anger. She didn't know how he summoned the strength to yell, but suddenly, he was shouting, his voice carrying through the lawnring. "My blood burns brightly for all to see! It is the flame of a revolution you could never hope to quell!"

_Crack!_

Nepeta dropped to her knees. She heard a squeaking from her left and her hand lunged out to seize the tiny squeakbeast beside her. Without a second thought, she twisted off its puzzle-sponge and began transcribing on the wall of the block with its blood.

" _You may think you have doused the fire of this rebellion, but there will be a reflash! My sisters and brothers will rise up to throw off their bonds!"_

_Crack!_

Another scream, and then he was shouting again. _"My people will be free! You cannot hope to keep them enslaved any longer! In secret, they are already liberated!"_

_Crack!_

The Defenders at the portal hadn't even tried to stop her. She looked back at them for only the briefest of moments, her hand flying as he unknowingly dictated to her, but they merely regarded her with interest. She took that as a good sign and twisted off the head off another squeakbeast—they seemed to be lining up for her, waiting to be sacrificed.

" _Even now, some of your own conspire against you! The highest of you will betray for the sake of the revolution! It is not over, and your own see it!"_

Was he telling the truth? How could he know that?

There was no returning crack, and Nepeta stood back up. The E%ecutor had paused. Darkleer was next to her, speaking quietly. The one with the whip nodded and struck again.

" _The blue of your blood will be engulfed in a sea of fire, and there's nothing you can do to stop it! Prepare yourselves!"_

Nepeta continued writing as fast as she could, but the second squeakbeast was bleeding out faster.

_Crack!_

" _The galaxy will know our names! We cannot be stopped! WE! ARE! FREE!"_

A pause, and then another crack. Nepeta waited for more sound, more words, but they didn't come, and for a few long seconds, she was afraid that he'd actually died. But there was no more whipping, either. That was a relief.

_The final sermon,_ she thought sadly, wiping at her eyes with her wrist. She wrote _THE FINAL SERMON, THE VAST EXPLETIVE_ beneath his words and then started to write _The Signless_ beneath that, but it didn't make sense, did it? He'd suffered so much for the sake of this rebellion.

_The Sufferer_ , she wrote instead. She looked around and her eyes fell on the cuffs that all Defenders and E%ecutors had attached to their belts. That would do just fine—after all, he'd been shackled enough to warrant that. She traced the top view, two circles linked by two curved metal bands, next to _The Sufferer_ and sat back to admire her work.

There. The Vantases had a sign now.

The portal banged open again. Nepeta jerked around—it was Darkleer very gingerly carrying Karkat. Karkat's arms were half-around Darkleer's neck and he was slumped over the E%ecutor's shoulder while Darkleer held him around the legs. One of the Defenders hurried to open the prison block, but Darkleer didn't seem fazed by Karkat's additional weight. The E%ecutor stepped forward and gently set Karkat face down on the floor in front of her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, so softly that she wasn't sure she'd actually heard it, and then he was backing out of the prison block and out the portal.

Nepeta just scrambled forward to cradle Karkat's face. He was still breathing, although his eyes were closed, and she immediately removed her cloak and folded it up so he could rest his head on something other than cold stone.

His eyes fluttered open for a second and he smiled. "Nepeta. How are you?"

She made a choking sound, a laugh and a sob at once, and ran her fingers through his hair. _"Fur_ better than _mew_ , by the look of it. I won't ask how _mew_ 're doing, though. I think I can tell."

He chuckled softly. "Sorry that took so long. I was a little tied up."

She closed her eyes and shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. " _Mew_ have to stop."

"Never." He turned his head to look at the wall that she'd written on. "Wow. You've been busy. Who's The Sufferer?"

"That's you," Nepeta said quietly. "I figured you'd suffered enough to make it official. And you have a sign now," she added, indicating what she'd drawn.

He read it over slowly. "Wow. I didn't... Did I really say all that?"

Nepeta nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Yeah. That all came out of your mouth out there."

"That's incredible. I didn't even... It wasn't like before, when I was preaching to the lowbloods. I was so _angry_ , you know? They had me completely vulnerable and they still mocked me. I mean, I guess it makes sense, but I didn't even realize what I was saying."

"I guess it's a good thing I wrote it down, then."

He sighed heavily and winced as the drying blood on his back cracked. "That's gonna sting tomorrow."

She might have laughed if the situation weren't so serious. Come tomorrow, they'd both be dead and he wouldn't have to worry about the pain anymore. She closed her eyes and continued lightly scratching at his head.

"Oh, by the way," Karkat said suddenly, keeping his voice low, "I found out something interesting."

"About what?"

He wiggled slightly to look her in the eye. "About you. And Darkleer."

She blinked in confusion and concern. "Darkleer and _me_?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know what anyone told you, but there's nothing going on with him and me."

"I know that. It's just that..." His voice went quieter, and she leaned down to hear him. "Darkleer told me himself—you're going to be freed."

She couldn't breathe for a few seconds. "What?"

"Yeah. I was just as shocked as you were. He told me..." He winced as he shifted slightly. "He told me that he was ordered to release you."

"By who?"

"He didn't say—and believe me, I asked. He just told me that it was a long story, he couldn't explain, but you need to be ready to run tomorrow."

"Run?"

Karkat nodded weakly. "This isn't an order from The Grand Highblood. It's from someone else. He's going to be executed for it, but he's freeing you anyway. I really don't know why, but does it really matter? You're going to be free." He smiled.

"But not you?" she asked quietly.

His smile faded. "No. Not me."

Nepeta bit her lip as she reread the words on the wall. "Is that what you meant by _'Some of your own conspire against you'_?"

"Yeah. Darkleer's in on it. Maybe Luminous, too—she was the one with the whip. She didn't seem too thrilled with the scourging, to be honest." He gingerly moved his hand to rest on her knee. "Look, it has to be for a reason, you know?"

"Yes. I know."

"This..." He indicated the wall. "This might be the reason. This is a sign from the Heavens that I was right—the revolution won't die with me, with _us_. What if the reason you're being freed is so you can make sure the message doesn't fade away?"

Her chest tightened as she looked again at the wall. That would make sense, wouldn't it? Someone needed to write down everything he'd said from the very beginning, and who else had been there since the start? She and Kanaya were the only two who would be left alive who'd been with him since he began preaching—Sollux hadn't come along until a few perigees later, and his brother even later than that. Kankri and Meulon were both dead and Kanaya probably wouldn't end up in a position to write anything down for a long time. That was it, then. She had to continue the messages and the teachings. He was right—the revolution couldn't be left to fade to embers and die. "Yeah," she murmured. "I think you're right." _I just wish I had you with me still_ , she thought, but she kept her words inside. Now wasn't the time for weakness. It was the time for action.

"So you'll run, then, when he frees you? You won't do something stupid like try to fight?"

"No. I'll fight them later. When I'm stronger, I'll tear The Grand Highblood's head from her shoulders."

He smiled. "Of that, I have no doubt." After a few moments, his smile slipped and he closed his eyes. "Fuck, I'm tired," he said. "Who would have thought that being scourged could be so exhausting?"

She wanted to smile back, but it was too painful. How was she supposed to laugh again when, in mere hours, the love of her life would be dead and she would be running for freedom?

"Don't worry, Nepeta. This hell is almost over."

"Maybe for you, it is," she replied quietly. "But for me, it's just beginning."


	42. E%ECUTOR DARKLEER V / THE DISCIPLE III

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

The Signless's words had shaken him. He'd been afraid that the revolutionary was about to betray him, but he'd kept his words purposefully vague. Luminous had stopped, shot The Signless a curious glance, and then Equius approached her.

"He's attempting to rattle you," he said quietly. "He's been in the prison blocks since yesterday. How could he know anything?"

"He knows _something_ ," she'd protested.

"Geerda."

She gave him a dissecting look. They knew each others' real names but they seldom used them, and never when other people could overhear. He only called her by her real name now in order to get her attention in a big way.

"Yes, Equius?"

"Trust me. End this quickly."

That had gotten through to her. She nodded finally and continued, but Equius could tell she still had doubts. To her credit, she didn't let it show. Once the ten strikes had been landed, she coiled up the whip and practically threw it at one of the Defenders before striding away. She really did hate scourgings.

Equius carefully unshackled The Signless and lifted him. He was half-unconscious, groaning and delirious, and he tried to be as careful as possible as he carried The Signless back to the prison blocks. He felt as though he'd betrayed The Disciple by allowing this to happen, but what choice did he have?

Later, once he'd brought The Signless back to her, he retired to his own block to just think. He was dreading the next night even more than he'd dreaded tonight.

His plan had originally been to execute The Signless, sprint forward, and release The Disciple before anyone else could react, but a new idea had come to mind since then. The arrow he'd launched at The Singular had gone completely through his think pan and out the other side, and the metal cuffs that the prisoners wore were about as strong as bone. Maybe, if he shot a reinforced arrow at The Disciple's shackles, her bindings would break and she could run that much sooner.

His block afforded him adequate space to test this. He normally didn't condone the use of arrows in hives, but he was an expert marksman and he wouldn't hit anything he didn't fully intend to. He took a set of cuffs and chained them to the ceiling, dangling a bot from them to simulate The Disciple's weight. He backed as far away as he could get without actually hitting the wall and restricting his movement, selected one of the titanium arrows he'd crafted perigees ago, and a bow with a titanium string. They were the strongest he had—if this didn't work, he would have to revert to his original plan.

He took a deep breath, raised the bow, nocked the arrow, aimed, released.

The arrow made a solid _whoosh_ ing noise as it flew, sinking into the cuffs. For a split second, he thought nothing happened, and then he saw the spiderweb of cracks forming, and a moment later, the cuffs shattered, releasing the bot.

_That will work_ , he decided, hanging his bow back up. Now all that was left was to wait—and he'd gotten rather good at waiting.

At sunset the next evening, The Grand Highblood's court reconvened on the lawnring. Equius went with the detail to fetch The Disciple and The Signless, and if anyone thought it was odd that he personally chained The Disciple's arms over her head, they didn't say anything.

"I'm told you intend to free me," she muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Your information is correct."

"And they'll kill you after."

"Almost assuredly."

"When will you free me?"

"After I execute The Signless."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. She would never forgive him for that, he knew. "He's The Sufferer now."

"I see."

"Make it fast."

"Don't I always?" he asked. "Be ready to run."

He stood up and she lowered her eyes, but he still saw the tears welling up. He swallowed and turned around, grateful that he'd already decided to let her go. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach killing her in the first place. He didn't know why, although he suspected that, had they met under different circumstances, they might have been moirails. He certainly _felt_ protective of her.

Just like last night, he turned to The Grand Highblood and bowed. "Grand Highblood, I have the prisoners here awaiting execution."

Instead of saying anything, she just waved her hand. He took this to be a sign of _go ahead_ , and so he turned to face The Disciple and The Sufferer.

He and the mutant locked eyes. There was fear there, which didn't surprise Equius, but there was also something that looked like it might have been gratitude—gratitude for releasing The Disciple, most likely. He wanted to apologize again, but no amount of _I'm sorry_ s would ever be enough. Hopefully his own death would atone for this.

He drew an arrow, nocked it, and aimed. The Sufferer didn't look away or close his eyes, which he respected and even admired. But he had a job to do.

He exhaled slowly and let the arrow fly. The Sufferer's whole body jerked upon impact and he slumped back against the post, the arrow protruding garishly from his chest. The Disciple whimpered and instinctively tried to scoot closer to him, but her bonds prevented it.

In a few moments, it was over, and The Sufferer was dead. Equius wiped at the sweat beading up on his forehead and turned back to The Grand Highblood. She glanced at him and nodded. _Carry on._

He took a steadying breath, turned, and drew his last arrow. The Disciple looked at him with fear and inconsolable grieving in her eyes—she was wondering if she was really going to be freed, or if he'd changed his mind. But he couldn't, not with her looking at him like that. _I would gladly give my life for hers_ , he decided.

He nocked the arrow, aimed, and let it fly.

Like it had during his test last night, it sank into the cuffs above her head, and like last night, they splintered and shattered, raining down shards of metal. Her eyes widened and everything seemed to slow down as her arms dropped.

She didn't move. She didn't run. She stared at him for a full second before twisting, grabbing at The Sufferer's belt— _Has she gone insane?_ Equius wondered wildly—and pulling.

" _RUN!"_ he yelled. Now there could be no mistake—the arrow had been intentional and everyone knew it.

She heard him, though. With The Sufferer's leggings in hand, she jumped to her feet, shot him one last, nearly grateful look, and sprinted toward the nature assemblage.

She was fast, a relief for him. She disappeared in seconds and the tightness in his own chest disappeared as well. He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been until he wasn't anymore.

He didn't hear the thundering footsteps behind him, but he felt something solid strike the back of his head. Dazed, he dropped to his knees, and then his face was shoved to the dirt. There was movement above him, his arms being pulled behind his back, and cuffs on his wrists by the time he was able to blink the stars out of his vision.

"Equius, what have you done?" Luminous breathed.

He didn't bother answering. He couldn't have explained to her what happened. There was no use.

He let himself be pulled to his feet and half-dragged in front of The Grand Highblood. "E%ecutor Commander Darkleer has _flouted_ his duties and freed a prisoner sentenced to execution," Luminous said, an angry blue flush coloring her cheeks. "As Darkleer's second-in-command, I respectfully request permission to permanently relieve him of his rank, title, and life."

"Send him to the motherfucking prison blocks," The Grand Highblood said, taking everyone by surprise. " _I'll_ up and motherfucking decide what to do with him."

Luminous gritted her teeth and bowed. "As you command, Grand Highblood," she said. She turned to the four Defenders who held Equius. "You heard her—to the prison blocks!" she snapped. "As for the rest of you, follow The Disciple! Bring her back here _now_!"

Geerda was angry, and Equius was not surprised. Just yesterday, he'd lied to her, telling her that what The Sufferer had said was a lie—how could any blue-blood possibly betray their caste? And then he'd turned around and proven to her that The Sufferer was right. He didn't care anymore, though. He was as good as dead. He just hoped that The Disciple would evade recapture.

* * *

_**The Disciple** _

Karkat was dead. He was really, truly dead.

It had taken her too long to really accept it, and then she'd nearly gone out of her mind with grief. She almost hadn't believed it when Darkleer's arrow shattered her cuffs, freeing her, and she had to stare at him for a few moments, trying to wrap her head around it all. Taking Karkat's leggings had cost her seconds, seconds that Darkleer had given her, but what was the point?

The Sufferer was dead, and she was completely alone.

She didn't stop running until her legs felt like they would give out completely. Once she reached that point, she scaled a tree and settled into its branches, high above the floor of the nature assemblage. She had no doubt that The Grand Highblood would send E%ecutors and Defenders after her to bring her back, but this time, it would be different.

Last time, she could have gotten away if she hadn't cared about leaving behind Karkat and Kankri and Kanaya and the twins. She and Meulon could have escaped quite easily—they were both extremely nimble and fast. The blue-bloods might have had strength on their side, but they were slow. The only reason they'd been captured was because Nepeta wouldn't leave Karkat's side, and Meulon wouldn't leave her.

Now, she had no one left. She could run and she could fight, and this time, she _would_ fight, even if they killed her where she stood. She just wouldn't let them take her back to The Grand Highblood's hive. She refused to be executed there, made a mockery of like Karkat and Meulon and Kankri. She was too strong for that.

She had all night to hide in this tree, but come sunrise, she had to find other shelter, out of the sunlight. Maybe Kanaya had been able to withstand and even enjoy the light, and Karkat and Kankri had both tolerated it out of necessity, but she hated it.

She cradled Karkat's leggings to her chest and let silent tears slip down her face. She had to keep moving, had to keep running, but she was tired and losing her will to flee. She would fight when the time came, but she was tired of running. It was only a matter of time before they recaptured her anyway, right?

An hour before sunrise, she heard the distant sounds of search parties melting away. Three or four bands of E%ecutors and Defenders had passed beneath her tree, but her clothing—black and olive-green, the color of her blood—had blended in so well with the leaves that they didn't see her. Now they were retreated, empty-handed, and Nepeta wondered if Darkleer was already dead. She told herself she didn't care, that he deserved whatever horrible punishment they inflicted on him, but she didn't quite believe it.

After all, Darkleer had only been ordered to carry out the executions, hadn't he? The Grand Highblood and The Condesce were the ones who wanted the rebels dead. He couldn't really be held accountable for following orders, especially when he'd deliberately disobeyed the order to kill her. And he had looked truly remorseful when he killed Karkat—maybe that internal struggle she'd seen on his face had been just that, a man grappling between orders and what he knew to be right.

Once the nature assemblage around her was silent, she shimmied down the tree, the leggings tied around her waist so they didn't restrict her movement. She didn't have much time to find shelter, so she had to be quick again.

Fortunately, her time in the tree had refreshed her (even if her limbs were still a little stiff from being in one position for so long), and when she ran again, she truly felt free. She would remember Karkat's words, and that's how he would live on—through them.

She just had to survive the day first.


	43. THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD IV / E%ECUTOR DARKLEER VI

_**The Grand Highblood** _

She couldn't quite explain what happened to stay her hand. By all rights, she should have let Luminous execute Darkleer on the spot—that was how the highbloods did business, and doing otherwise would set a poor example for Gamzee. Darkleer had royally fucked up. He'd _freed a prisoner_ , one who should have been executed, and that affront alone would have been enough to seal his fate. His predecessor Goldrage had been relieved for less—and she'd been of a higher caste than him. So what the fuck happened?

It didn't matter. Luminous would cull him at sundown tomorrow. He would be dead, the other E%ecutors and Defenders would find The Disciple and bring her back, and Luminous would finish the job. Everything would go back to the way it should be, except that Darkleer would be dead. _Fine._

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy, though. Not with the way the last few sweeps had gone. Of course right after she decided how to handle the situation, The Handmaid would show up to completely change the game plan.

Kurlas wasn't even surprised to see her when she appeared, striding into her block and sitting down across from her like her visits were a regular occurrence. At this point, they almost were.

"Handmaid."

The Handmaid tilted her head to the side. "Highblood."

"Let me guess. You're up and motherfucking here about Darkleer."

The lowblood smiled serenely. "Am I really so predictable?"

"Call it a motherfucking feeling."

"So what is it you think I'm going to tell you?"

"To spare Darkleer. I already up and motherfucking decided to have Luminous execute him tomorrow and you only get your arriving on whenever my mind needs to be up and changed."

"You're smarter than you look."

She caught the subtle jab and it irritated her. "Better than motherfucking looking smarter than you are," she countered. "But you're right enough. Don't kill Darkleer."

"And why the motherfuck should I do _that_? He up and freed a motherfucking prisoner—"

"Under my instruction," The Handmaid said coolly.

Kurlas blinked rapidly, trying to process this information. To this point, she'd been pretty certain that The Handmaid had only been instructing _her_. To hear that there were others being used as pawns was astonishing.

"Come on, Kurlas. In all of his sweeps as E%ecutor Commander, how has his record been?"

"Flawless," she admitted grudgingly. "Never had a motherfucking problem with him before this. Always up and followed orders to the motherfucking letter."

"Exactly. The man can barely think for himself. Do you think there's a single thing he's done that he wasn't explicitly ordered to do? Had you honestly considered that he _wouldn't_ free a prisoner of his own volition? Well, he might, actually—that one, anyway. Those of his caste and those of hers make excellent palemates together, and I believe he felt something akin to protectiveness of her as a result of that."

Kurlas swallowed but continued looking unblinkingly at The Handmaid. What about The Follower? Was there some explanation of _that_? There had to be—she couldn't fathom why she felt _remorse_ for having him executed. "I see."

"So," The Handmaid went on, examining her nails, "knowing that I told him to release The Disciple, it follows that she was meant to be freed for a reason. And... well, honestly, I expected that he would have fled with her, but common sense can't be taught."

"So, what, just motherfucking let him go?"

"Not exactly like that, no. He's meant to be an exile. Have him banished. Better yet," she added as though the idea had just occurred to her, "have his brother exile him."

"Brother?"

"Yes. He has a younger brother. E%ecutor Coldbeat. He's a lot like Darkleer in that he's obedient almost to a fault. He'll listen to anything you tell him."

"Even if I motherfucking tell him to up and exile his own motherfucking brother?"

The Handmaid nodded. "Even if you tell him to exile his own brother. The two of them have been... diverging of late anyway."

Kurlas nodded slowly. "Then motherfucking get Coldbeat to up and exile Darkleer's ass, then? Is that the plan?"

"I'm certain Luminous will be devastated." The Handmaid stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a prior engagement."

"With who?"

The Handmaid smiled. "With you, five sweeps ago. I'll see you later, Kurlas."

It was a relatively simple matter to find out where E%ecutor Coldbeat was currently—Darkleer knew, of course, and Kurlas sent Luminous down to the prison blocks to find out from him where his brother was. Sending for him was also fairly easy. The problem was expediting his travel. Kurlas had to send a transport to get him, and that was easier said than done considering they had to fly all day.

The transport arrived several hours after sundown. Luminous waited out on the lawnring, glowering at anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path. She'd already been briefed on what was going to happen and she was less than thrilled with the plan, but she grudgingly obeyed.

Kurlas made a note of it. She still had to decide who the next E%ecutor Commander would be to take Darkleer's place. Luminous would, of course, be the logical choice since she had more than proven her loyalty and obedience over ten sweeps of service and, given that she had been Darkleer's second-in-command, it would follow. She was acting E%ecutor Commander anyway until Kurlas made up her mind. However, Darkleer himself had picked Luminous to be his second-in-command, a factor against her. While Kurlas knew Darkleer hadn't acted on his own, the betrayal still bothered her.

The portal to the throne block flew open, and in strode Luminous. Two steps behind her was a veritable carbon copy of Darkleer. The only differences between the two were Coldbeat's dress (indicative of a lower-ranking E%ecutor), his apparent youth compared to his brother, and the way he regarded The Grand Highblood. Whenever Darkleer approached her or spoke to her, he was nothing if not respectful to a fault. Coldbeat practically looked _insolent_ , and for some reason, that endeared him to her. Besides, she didn't really care about bearing as long as her orders were followed.

"Grand Highblood," Luminous said carefully, gesturing to Coldbeat, "I present you E%ecutor Coldbeat, brother to _former_ E%ecutor Commander Darkleer." She laid heavy emphasis on the word _former_ , as though anyone needed reminding. Coldbeat's expression grew more sour as he heard it. Kurlas wondered what he thought about what his brother had done.

"Ain't no motherfucking reason to up and drag this out any longer than necessary," Kurlas said. "Coldbeat, you know what you're up and motherfucking doing?"

He nodded once, quick and curt. "My instructions were to exile my brother after making an example of him."

She leaned forward in her throne. "And can you motherfucking handle that?"

"Unquestionably, Grand Highblood."

"Motherfucking outstanding. Let's get this motherfucking circus rolling."

* * *

_**E%ecutor Darkleer** _

They hadn't executed him outright, which surprised him slightly—and worried him. He had no doubt that, with added time to contemplate his fate, The Grand Highblood would come up with some ridiculous and painful method of execution. He would have much preferred going out at the end of Luminous's arrow, but apparently that wasn't meant to be.

He didn't know how long he expected to wait, but as the night melted into day and he fell into a restless doze, he briefly entertained the notion that he would be left to rot here for the rest of his sweeps. It was a terrifying notion, one he dismissed almost immediately. _Too merciful for The Grand Highblood._ She would almost assuredly think of something else to do with him.

When he woke next, it was dark out, and a transport had landed out on the lawnring. He had no idea who had arrived since they were too far away, but it didn't matter—within the hour, he was dragged from the prison block and brought out to the lawnring. He was weak with hunger and unwilling to resist anyway, so he was quickly chained to one of the posts with his arms spread. He could stand relatively easily, but when he tried to fall to his knees, his wrists twisted and made it uncomfortable. That, he supposed, was the point. He was being punished.

People began gathering on the lawnring to watch and he idly wondered what they had in store for him, but he kept his head down and his eyes closed. He didn't want to meet Luminous's gaze right now—that would just reiterate his disgrace.

_The Disgrace_ , he thought. _Is that how history will remember me? The Dolorosa, The Follower, The Singular, The Sufferer, and The Disgrace._ It would make sense, after all.

He heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't until the person was right in front of him that he opened his eyes. He was taken aback, but only for a moment. "Horuss."

He'd predicted that his brother would be the one to execute him, but he didn't actually think it would come to pass. His stomach turned and he wished he'd been wrong. It had been far too long since the last time they'd seen each other, and the time had taken its toll on his younger brother.

Equius remembered Horuss with an intensely focused expression as he focused on whatever task he'd assigned himself or a bright smile as they discussed various robotic intricacies. Now, however, those looks would look decidedly out-of-place; there were hard lines around Horuss's eyes and a scowl on his lips. Equius's heart ached. He wondered how many times his brother had had to be beaten into submission during his training. Something inside Horuss had snapped, and he wasn't the same man who'd left Equius in the barracks however many perigees or sweeps ago it was. He'd been cracked then, the fault lines already evident, but now he was truly broken.

Horuss looked like he was about to say something but then thought better of it. He half-turned, caught a nod from The Grand Highblood, and then turned back, his hand already curling into a fist.

The blow struck solidly against Equius's temple and he reeled, his knees already buckling as he let out a pained grunt. He barely had a moment to recover before Horuss swung again. Equius slumped back as best he could, but now he understood his position—he couldn't sink very far to dodge any of his brother's strikes. Again and again, the punches rained down on him, mostly to his head but once or twice to his gut with such force that he would have thrown up had there been anything in his stomach at all.

And then one particularly strong blow caught him just right on the cheek, sending his head snapping back into the post. He heard the crack before he felt it, but when he did feel it, he knew exactly what it was. He didn't even need the sensation of blood streaming through his hair to know what had happened. His right horn was broken.

He finally screamed—it was pure agony. He'd never felt pain this excruciating before. He knew horns were sensitive, but he never imagined the pain of breaking one would be so torturous. Even Horuss took a step back as he realized what he'd done, but then he reached up to touch it.

It must have been just barely hanging on to the stump because, with one quick jerk, Horuss snapped it the rest of the way off and tossed it aside. His fingers were drenched in blue.

Fortunately for Equius, the pain, the blood loss, and his hunger overcame him all at once and he passed out.

He came back in bits and pieces, lingering in consciousness for a few moments before slipping out again. He heard shouting and felt his arms being freed. He must have been moved, because after a bit of jostling, he felt the thrum of engines beneath him as he lay on cold metal. His horn still throbbed dully but the immediate pain had subsided. He was pretty sure he'd stopped bleeding, too, since his hair felt sticky and stiff with congealed blood.

He came fully aware for a few short moments when there came a grinding sound of some metal portal opening and a great gust of wind whooshing in. He was in one of the transports, he realized, and in the hangar bay. The rear portal was open and the ship was skimming the treetops, still relatively close to the ground in terms of how far it _could_ go. Then a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, and he was half-dragged to the open portal.

"You will no longer be known as E%ecutor Darkleer," he heard Horuss hiss in his ear. "I claim that name for myself as my hatchright. You've disgraced yourself, your brother, and your caste. I exile you to atone for the smear on the Zahhak name." Before Equius could brace himself, Horuss shoved him out of the transport, and, still dizzy and weak, he could do nothing but fall. The ground rushed up to meet him.

_I hope this kills me._


	44. BLUEGLOW II

_**Blueglow** _

He drifted in and out of consciousness as the transport jostled along. One small mercy they'd been afforded was finally being confined adjacently, not that it made a difference. Sollux and Mituna were separated by several inches of thick plastic—even if Sollux hadn't been weak from his injury and subsequent isolation, he wouldn't have had the strength to break through the barrier. Mituna was getting weaker, too, although not as much as him, and besides, he was better at hiding it. Still, the two of them had settled on the floor of the transport right next to each other, with only that plastic divide separating them. With their shoulders pressed against the barrier, they were as close to each other as possible.

Conscripted to The Condesce's service. Sollux had known their psionic powers were valuable, but he never imagined how dangerous they were to them. And now they were stuck in this mess—probably for the rest of their lives.

Judging by the way his leg throbbed and seemed to drain all of his strength, the rest of his life might not be all that long.

The worst thing was knowing, moments after they took off, that all of their friends were dead. He could hear the moment Kankri and Meulon died, the moment their screaming amplified for a mind-melting second only to be silenced by death. Karkat remained alive for another day before he, too, was executed, but Nepeta's voice never came back to him. She was still alive as far as he could tell, and though he didn't know why, he was grateful for it. _At least one of us will survive this._

The guards changed every few hours, but they never saw The Condesce (and he knew she was aboard—the guards talked about it nearly every time the watch changed). That suited Sollux just fine—the less he saw of her, the better. He had an admittedly warranted mistrust of highbloods—every single one of them. He glimpsed The Young Highblood briefly while in the presence of The Grand Highblood and he looked like he hadn't changed at all in the six or seven sweeps since they'd first seen him in the company of The Princess, although that hadn't surprised him. He doubted The Young Highblood recognized them, even if twins were unheard-of before them.

Would The Princess recognize them? Would they even see her? Sollux shivered and pressed himself closer to Mituna, who was currently asleep with his head lolling against the plastic. He wasn't sure he wanted to see her, either. She'd seemed nice enough in that initial meeting, but it was probably an act—everyone knew that highbloods were naturally violent. That was how they'd asserted themselves at the top of the hemospectrum. Well, that, and their far longer lifespans. Compared to their fuchsia-blooded empress, Sollux and his brother were barely a blip on the time line.

He slowly became aware of the guards talking to each other—they probably thought Sollux and Mituna were both asleep, and Sollux kept his eyes closed to maintain that illusion.

"It was a complete debacle," one was saying quietly. "Everyone was shocked."

"Yeah, but what happened? Why'd he do it?"

"That's the thing—no one knows. People _asked_ , but he never said. He just... let her go. Completely out of nowhere. He executed The Signless all nice and quietly, and then instead of killing The Disciple like he was supposed to, he broke her cuffs and yelled at her to run."

Sollux held his breath, unsure of what he'd just heard. Darkleer? Darkleer had _freed_ Nepeta?

"Smarter man would have run after her."

"Darkleer is— _was—_ obedient. That was his value, not his brains."

"So now what?"

"You mean for him or for the E%ecutors?"

"Yes," the second one answered. Sollux could practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Dumbass. Well, Luminous took him down immediately, right? Unsurprisingly—she did her job the way she was supposed to, so everyone's pretty sure Darkleer acted alone. But GHB didn't let her execute him right then—just told her to take him to the prison blocks."

" _Why?_ "

"Come on, man, I'm trying to tell this story." She exhaled sharply. "Where was I? Right, Luminous. So I guess the plan for him is for his brother, E%ecutor Coldbeat or whatever the hell his name is, to make an example of him. GHB probably means to have him kill Darkleer to demonstrate that anyone who disobeys, _especially_ one of us blue-bloods, will call dishonor down on their whole family or something. I fucking tell you, if my sister ever pulled some foolish stunt like that, I wouldn't hesitate to kill her on the spot, either. So Coldbeat is probably going to be just fine with it."

"And the E%ecutors?"

"You mean the new E%ecutor Commander?"

"Yes."

"I have no idea what GHB's plan for that vacancy is. Logic would dictate Luminous, wouldn't it? But Darkleer wasn't Goldrage's second-in-command and she still made him the next E%ecutor Commander. So who really knows?" The E%ecutor's voice dropped to a whisper. "I doubt The Grand Highbitch herself even knows who she's going to choose."

The two of them laughed, but Sollux's head was spinning. He wished he knew why Darkleer had saved Nepeta even to the point of sacrificing himself—and Sollux wasn't stupid enough to think that Darkleer, as E%ecutor Commander, didn't know what the consequences of his actions would be. Something had motivated Darkleer to free her. Something major.

Someone had probably threatened to hurt someone he loved if he didn't release Nepeta, but who could have wielded that much power and not freed her themselves?

He supposed it didn't matter anymore _why—_ the point was, it had happened. The transport was slowing now, and he mentally poked Mituna awake. They would be encountering true evil shortly.

* * *

It was nearly an hour after they landed before the guards came for them. Mituna was pulled out of his plastic block and surrounded by six Defenders and then Sollux was given the same treatment. The two of them were led out into the night and down a steep staircase that seemed to rise up from the ocean. It could only be The Condesce's hive.

The stairs were encased in a plastic tube that Sollux supposed was meant to be for landdwellers. He really didn't want to go into that underwater hive, but it appeared they didn't have a choice. It meant there was only one way for landdwellers to get out, and he didn't like those odds. They would be trapped.

Sollux lost track of how many twists and turns they took beneath the waves, but he only stumbled a few times—and every time, one of the Defenders caught him quickly to keep him from falling. Mituna glanced back every time, concern apparent in his eyes, but every time, Sollux beamed him a mental message: _Don't worry about me. I'll be okay._

They finally arrived in The Condesce's throne block, which, much like The Grand Highblood's, was filled with high-blooded people. The main difference was that most of these highbloods were seadwellers, people who would live to be hundreds, if not thousands, of sweeps older than him. It took him a few moments to locate The Condesce's throne, but there she was, sitting casually with one leg crossed over the other and her 2x3dent in hand. Behind her was another woman with horns identical to The Condesce, her garb black with the same fuchsia trim, and a similar 3dent in her hand.

The Princess was looking right at them, her expression unreadable.

_It's her!_ Mituna practically screamed at him.

_I know._ Did she recognize them? Surely they'd changed quite a bit, but she hadn't.

"Look," The Condesce said, keeping her eyes on Sollux and Mituna while addressing her sister. "I got me a couple a' new power sources for my ship. I'm gonna call them my Helmsmen." She sounded pleased with herself. "They were consortin' with The Signless so they pro _bubbly_ follow his _school_ a' thought, but that can be corrected. _Water_ you think?"

"Why are they separated?" The Princess asked quietly, continuing to gaze at them.

"They dangerous together."

"You're going to kill them—they're _moray-eels._ You can't keep them apart like that."

The Condesce's eyes narrowed. "How can you tell?"

"How can you _knot_?" She finally looked away from them and looked at The Condesce. "They've done every _fin_ together, _otter_ wise they wouldn't be here right now."

The Condesce tilted her head to the side and The Princess looked back at them. Sollux allowed himself to hope for a moment—maybe The Princess's appeal to her would work. He didn't know how, but The Princess must have recognized them. She was trying to bring them back together.

"Yeah, don't care," The Condesce said abruptly. "Those collars keep their powers in check an' if I let 'em near each _otter_ , they gonna get 'em off."

The Princess regarded them sadly.

_She tried_ , Mituna thought. _She knew us._

Sollux blinked and fought a sudden wave of dizziness. _Twins are distinctive_ , he managed to reply. He just barely registered Mituna sensing the faintness in his thoughts and turning his head to look before his knees buckled.

" _Catch him!"_ The Condesce screamed. She was on her feet, storming down the short set of steps leading up to her throne, but the Defender behind him had already caught him.

" _Sea_?" The Princess asked. "They're weak! They need each other, or he'll die!"

The Condesce gritted her teeth for a moment and barked, "Take that one—" here, she pointed to Mituna "—to the generators. And _that_ one—" she pointed to Sollux now "—goes to his block. Make sure he gets in a recuperacoon."

Sollux hadn't been in a recuperacoon in perigees, and the last time, Mituna had been with him. He didn't want to go by himself—he would be completely separated from his brother, with who knew how many walls between them. That had never happened before. Even before, when they were apart, it was only by a few feet and they'd still been able to _see_ each other. Now he would be completely alone.

But he didn't have a choice. The Defender that had caught him still had her arms around him, and he was being half-carried away while Mituna was dragged in the other direction while he screamed something so enraged and profanity-laced that not even Sollux could completely understand him.

The portal slammed behind them and he couldn't hear Mituna yelling anymore. He felt all the energy draining out of him and stumbled hard—after that, a Defender carried him the rest of the way. In blackness, he felt the small procession wind left and right, down stairs, through more portals until he was gently lowered into a vat of green sopor slime that was far bigger than anything they'd had back at their hive as children. He didn't know how long he was asleep.

* * *

When he woke, it was to fingers gently combing through his hair. _Mituna_ , he thought happily, briefly, before the nightmare of his situation sank in again. There was no way it would be Mituna. The Condesce would never let them in the same block again, not without a dozen armed escorts.

He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise at The Princess. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around for anyone else, but they were alone. Her 3dent was propped up in a corner, far away.

"I came to see you, Blueglow," she said quietly. "I know... you're suffering right now. The Signless is dead, and your other friends..."

"The Singular was just a kid."

"I know. And being separated from your brother... I already spoke to him."

"So you recognized us back there?"

"You tend to stand out. The eyes, the horns, the blood color... the fact that you're twins. You're hard to forget." She sighed and pulled her hand back. "This isn't what I wanted for you two, you know. I thought you would have a better life than this."

He shifted in the recuperacoon. He hated to admit it, but his leg felt a lot better now. "It would have helped if we hadn't joined Ka—The Signless."

"Probably, but it also would have helped if certain people in positions of authority were open to listening to other points of view, even from others they viewed as inferior."

Sollux couldn't believe what he was hearing—The Princess was practically admitting to being a follower of Karkat's. That was unfathomable.

"Anyway, Blueglow, I don't... I don't know how much I'll be able to help you and your brother while you're here, but I'll do what I can."

"What do you mean, 'while we're here'?"

"My sister has decided that as soon as you're healed, you'll be piloting her ship off the planet to conquer the galaxies. She's already amassing a task force of hundreds of thousands, nearly millions. Defenders, E%ecutors, Threshecutioners, Cavalreapers... everyone who can wield a weapon will fight."

"And you?"

She sounded bitter as she said, "I will remain here, like a good little heiress and learn how to properly rule my subjects."

"I think you're doing okay, Princess."

The Princess half-smiled and kissed his forehead. "Your brother said the same thing. And while we're alone, call me Feferi. I prefer it that way."

"I'm Sollux."

Feferi smiled at him for a few more moments before her face fell and she stood up. "Unfortunately, I have to leave now, Sollux. But I will do my absolute best to get you and Mituna at least a few minutes together by yourselves. I know you miss him terribly. He misses you, too."

He nodded, closing his eyes. She really _had_ talked to Mituna—she knew his name. Right now, he was willing to believe just about anything she told him.

"Get some rest. Just not too much—you don't want to heal too fast."

He heard her pick up her 3dent, cross the block, and leave. He sighed and wished for Mituna.


	45. THE FLIGHTED

_**The Flighted** _

Rufioh was getting sicker and sicker by the day, and Tavros felt his own anxiety increasing along with his brother's illness. They'd been on the run for nearly a sweep now, staying to the outskirts of hive clusters and scavenging for food, but now Rufioh, who'd once been hauling him around like he was nothing, was forced to lean on Tavros for support, however reluctantly.

"C'mon, kid," Rufioh wheezed as Tavros gently helped him sit down. They were taking a break from walking, resting against a tall, sturdy tree, and Rufioh slowly sank to the ground. "Just leave me here, alright? Those fuckin' cullin' drones are gonna find me with a quickness, an' I don't want you to get in the middle a' that."

"I'm not leaving you," Tavros said. He bit his lip as Rufioh's eyes closed and he wondered if he should say what was on his mind. How could he adequately explain to his brother that Rufioh had done so much for him not too many sweeps ago, and he _had_ to do the same for him now? It went deeper than honor, deeper than a debt to be repaid. They were brothers. Tavros wasn't just going to abandon him to his death.

Besides, Tavros was terrified of being alone.

"C'mon. Look at me, kid. I need a fuckin' sopor slime drenchin' an' I'm not about to get it. I'm gonna die soon anyway. I can feel it," he added quietly.

Tavros didn't want to admit that maybe his brother was right on that point. Sometimes, when they woke up, Rufioh would be paralyzed. It would wear off after a few minutes, but Tavros would worry even more about him. "I'm not going to let you die," Tavros said. He brushed a few sweat-damp strands of hair back from Rufioh's face and sighed softly. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive."

"Kid—" Rufioh started, but Tavros cut him off.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Rufi. I'm six now. I can take care of you."

Rufioh's eyes fluttered open for a minute and he exhaled slowly before closing his eyes again. "Okay, brother. Then just give me a few minutes to rest an' we can keep goin'."

"Take all the time you need." Tavros rubbed the back of his neck and looked around, taking stock of their surroundings like Rufioh had taught him to.

They were in a nature assemblage, a far enough distance from the nearest hive cluster so that no one would inadvertently run into them and tell someone, and anyway, he'd hear someone from a long way off. A few animals darted about, but none of them ventured very close to them. Tavros imagined that the animals could probably smell the death on Rufioh and knew to avoid it. It made him want to bury his face in his hands and sob, but he was six now. He had to keep himself together for Rufioh's sake. He wouldn't abandon him. Not now—not until he was actually dead.

All of his idols were falling. First The Signless and now his brother—soon, he'd be alone and he'd have to fend for himself if he were to survive the culling drones. Maybe he could find The Disciple and hide with her—he'd heard all about the debacle at The Grand Highblood's hive. E%ecutor Darkleer had executed The Singular and The Follower and The Signless all nice and quietly, but then he'd let The Disciple go free and they _still_ hadn't found her. Rumor had it that she was out there, writing down all of The Signless's teachings, that she was calling him The Sufferer now (Tavros rather liked the name, although he disliked the implication), that she was teaching equality up and down the hemospectrum in his place.

The rumors regarding Darkleer's fate were contradictory, though. Some said that The Grand Highblood had sent for Darkleer's younger brother and had him execute the rebellious E%ecutor Commander, while others said that Darkleer's brother simply banished him. One thing the rumors _did_ agree on, though, was that Darkleer's brother had beaten him bloody before taking the name Darkleer for himself.

Tavros knew he absolutely did not want to run into the new E%ecutor Darkleer.

He glanced at Rufioh, who'd gone still except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. _Let him sleep_ , Tavros thought. Neither of them had gotten much rest over the past few days.

He sat back, throwing his arms out behind him to prop himself up, and looked up at the sky. It was dark, of course, and every star was out tonight. He wondered where The Disciple was, if she was looking at these same stars, if she was safe. He wondered how many more nights he'd have his brother with him. Rufioh was turning pale—it wouldn't be many more.

"Tavros?" came a soft voice from behind him, and he jumped up and spun around in surprise. That _definitely_ wasn't his brother's voice, and he hadn't heard anyone approaching, so what had happened? Had he spaced out that much?

"Who are you?" he demanded into the darkness.

A figure stepped out from behind a tree, and she smiled at him pleasantly. "Hello, Tavros. I am The Handmaid."

He reflexively sidestepped toward Rufioh, getting ready to defend him—this woman looked nice enough and, if the dark red of her clothing was to be believed, she was even lower than him on the hemospectrum, but he wasn't going to trust her just yet. "What do you want?" he asked.

Unfortunately, his movement had drawn her gaze down to Rufioh's sleeping form, and her brows knitted together. "Is he...?" she murmured, stepping closer and crouching down next to Tavros's brother.

"Dying? Yeah, he is, now back away from him," Tavros snarled. "Or I'll hit you," he added in his best threatening voice.

She glanced up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and he got the distinct impression he'd seen her somewhere before. He just didn't know where or when. "I highly doubt it." She gently stroked Rufioh's forehead before straightening up at looking at Tavros again. "He needs a recuperacoon."

"I know, but no one's gonna just let us use theirs, and I don't have money for an inn or anything, and even if I did—"

"Even if you did, he still looks ill and no one wants to bring the culling drones down on them. I know." She looked away for a few moments before sighing and said, "I can help, but he needs to get to a recuperacoon tonight. It's imperative that he..." She caught herself and blinked. "Wait here. I'll return shortly." Almost immediately, she vanished, and Tavros looked around, wondering where she'd gone.

But that probably explained how she was able to approach him without being detected—lower castes had all sorts of psychic powers. The **Ψ** iioniix, only a little higher than him on the hemospectrum, had been incredibly powerful. He'd heard stories about them levitating huge weights with just their powers, using their powers as weapons. There were probably other things they could do, too, but wouldn't mention because that would make them targets. It was why he and Rufioh both downplayed their power of talking to animals. If the highbloods knew what kind of control they had, it would be terrible for them.

The Handmaid was true to her word. Less than fifteen minutes after she disappeared, she reappeared in less time than it took Tavros to blink. "I struck a bargain with an innkeeper and she's willing to let you and Rufioh stay for one day only. That should be sufficient for him to recover, but you have you be out come nightfall tomorrow, and if she asks, he's intoxicated. Understand?"

Tavros nodded slowly. That wasn't the part that confused him. "Why are you so invested in helping me?" he asked.

She didn't say anything for a few moments, but finally, she sighed. "I can't tell you now, but it will become clear later. There are forces at work here I'm not allowed to explain, but you and Rufioh both are right at the center of some serious changes that will happen. Now give me your hand."

"Uh..." Tavros held out his hand, and she grabbed it before crouching down and picking up Rufioh's as well. All at once, everything shifted, his feet lifted off the ground, and his head spun. Screams echoed in his ears and he felt as though a great wind were blowing around him. His stomach churned and if there had been anything in it, he would have thrown up.

And then it stopped, and The Handmaid let go of his hand. He sank to his knees and doubled over, trying not to gag on nothing. "W... what was _that_?" he asked once he finally recovered enough to talk.

"A brief venture through time and space," she said lightly. "You're the first passengers I had for that, so I wasn't sure how it would affect you, but—"

"You never did that before?" he demanded.

"I knew it was theoretically possible, but I guess that explains..." Her voice trailed off and he looked up just in time to see her nod to herself. "Anyway, you'll be fine. The inn is just a little way up the road here—" she indicated the pathway they'd landed next to "—and the keeper will be expecting you. Here," she added, taking his hand and depositing several coins in it. "That should be enough for the night and to get both of you a nice grubsteak. First thing come nightfall tomorrow, though, you get out of there, or you're both in danger. Good luck," she added, and Tavros just had time to splutter out, "Wait!" before she vanished again.

"Shit," he muttered. He turned to regard his brother, who seemed to have come back to consciousness slightly but altogether looked unaffected by the journey. "Come on, Rufi, let's get you out of here."

* * *

As The Handmaid had promised, the innkeeper had seemed satisfied with the explanation of Rufioh being intoxicated. She barely gave them a second glance as Tavros helped his brother up to steps and into the block that had been set aside for them—although she did demand upfront payment, which made him grateful The Handmade had given him money. As soon as he closed the portal behind them, he shook Rufioh awake.

"Rufi, we got a recuperacoon for you. You need to take your clothes off."

Rufioh blinked slowly and for a minute, Tavros wasn't sure he'd understood. Then he said, "Fuck it, little bro. Just toss me in as-is."

"We don't have time to wash your clothes in the morning. Just take them off."

"When did you get so bossy, huh?" Rufioh asked, but he slowly did as Tavros asked, unsnapping his shirt and tugging it off before starting on his pants. Tavros then gently helped Rufioh into the green slime of the recuperacoon, and the elder Nitram sighed contentedly as it enveloped him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he muttered. "Three-quarters of a sweep an' I completely forgot what a normal recuperacoon felt like."

"Just sleep and we'll be out of here tomorrow night," Tavros said quietly.

Rufioh didn't answer, and when Tavros looked, his brother was already asleep.

He busied himself with folding up Rufioh's clothes before slipping into the adjoining ablution trap. It had been a long time since recuperacoons and ablution traps and thermal husks and everything that passed for modern civilization. He hoped, wherever The Handmaid was now, she knew how grateful he was for this.

After a longer-than-necessary ablution, he flopped down on the multi-person support and fell asleep almost immediately, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. Maybe the culling drones were coming for them, but at least for the night, they were safe.

* * *

They woke up at the same time, Rufioh's head still sticking out of the recuperacoon. His face was split in a wide grin.

"You feeling any better?" Tavros asked him, even though it was clear he was.

"Bangarang, little bro. I dunno what kind a' magic you worked last night, but I feel great." He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, and Tavros caught sight of something rust-brown and gossamer behind him. His blood pumper skipped a beat—was he hallucinating now? And then Rufioh pushed against the sides of the recuperacoon and stood up, and Tavros sat straight up, just staring.

_Wings._ Sometime last night while the sopor slime worked its magic, Rufioh had sprouted wings. They looked like giant insect wings, huge and translucent but the same brown color as their blood, stretching from just above his shoulders down to his knees.

"What? What're you—" Rufioh twisted around to see what Tavros was staring at, but he saw in a second. "Oh, _shit._ What the fuck happened to me?!"

The wings began fluttering—Tavros couldn't tell if Rufioh was actively controlling them or not—and then his brother started _floating_ , his entire weight easily carried by these flimsy-looking wings.

"Whoa. Think this was why I was gettin' sick?" The horror had melted out of Rufioh's voice now, replaced by something that sounded almost like wonder.

"Probably... think you could actually fly?"

Rufioh grinned suddenly, and to answer his question, he flew a quick lap around the block. "C'mere, kid, let's see if I can fly both of us."

Tavros chuckled nervously and crossed the block to lock his arms around Rufioh's neck. Again, the wings began beating, and their combined weight seemed like no problem. Rufioh flew a few more feet before gently setting Tavros back on the ground, and he laughed. "Incredible! Oh, man, this is the greatest mutation ever! Come on, kid, let's beat it before anyone finds out."

Tavros tossed his brother's clothes at him. "Just be sure to button up your cloak. Those wings are pretty noticeable."

Unfortunately, they encountered another problem. Rufioh attempted to don his shirt, but the wings got in his way. "Either we have to cut this or I have to just wear the cloak."

Tavros glanced out the window at the setting sun. "Just throw the cloak on. We can figure the shirt thing out later. And hurry—I want to pick up some food from the kitchen before we leave."

As soon as Rufioh had the cloak buttoned up as tight as it would go, the two of them headed out, trying to keep as low a profile as possible. After purchasing enough food for two or three nights, they left the inn and hurried down the road.

Rufioh's new wings twitched obviously beneath his cloak.


	46. Gigapause: Commence

**Gigapause: Commence.**

You'll notice this isn't a “chapter.” That's because there are other things going on in my life. Most notably, on August 22 (next Friday), my ship is deploying for approximately ten months.

_Updates will be halted until then._

Unless I somehow manage to find time to write in between the other three thousand things I happen to have to do while we're gone, _do not_ expect an update on any of my fics from next Friday until June of next year.

If you're a new reader who's just going through my stories, please, I beg you, _do not comment with “Update soon!!!11!1”_

It will not happen, and you should know very well why not. If you do comment like that, I'll assume you haven't read this or are deliberately ignoring it.

Okay, now then, stay safe until I speak to you next!

**Author's Note:**

> Transport paths/paths: streets/roads  
> Hives: homes  
> Hive cluster: town  
> Cartilaginous nub: nose  
> Entrance portal: door, usually front door  
> Entertainment block: living room  
> Thermal hull: one of the many terms for fridge  
> Sustenance block: kitchen  
> Feeding cylinder: bottle (baby bottle/grub bottle)  
> Nature assemblage: forest  
> Ablution trap: bathtub  
> Nutrition platform: table  
> Sky-water event: storm  
> Wind diamond: kite

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mistakes of My Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/948671) by [L_Greene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene)




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